


Spider-Verse: Predators

by BabyBat (BabyBatsCreations)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Choking, Dark!Tony, Dehumanization, Dom/sub, Earth-65, Edging, Gun play, Hair-pulling, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kingpin!Tony, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Murder, Past Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Suicide Attempt, Threats of Violence, breath play, dark!Peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2019-10-17 22:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 53,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17569547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyBatsCreations/pseuds/BabyBat
Summary: Peter Parker is barely keeping it together. Dealing with Gwen Stacy's death, Harry Osborn going MIA, and MJ refusing to take his calls, has the guy feeling seriously run down. Now to top it off, his uncle Ben is facing serious prison time. Fortunately or unfortunately, New York's own Kingpin of Crime, Tony Stark, has offered him a deal to save his uncle. On a positive note, this Kingpin guy is kind of hot. Is it wrong to sleep with a murderous criminal?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based somewhat loosely on the Spider-Gwen comics set in Earth-65 but with Peter and Gwen's roles swapped.
> 
> **This is another one of my fics that is going to get dark and will not have a "happy" ending <3  
> Please keep an eye on the tags with each update in case something you can't stomach crops up.

Peter watched the deal going down from the rooftop above. Someone had planted a sniper on the roof. The sight of a guy with a big gun was what tipped him off, but he was easy to sneak up on and knock out. Now he just needed to wait for a good opportunity. As it was, if he jumped down there now, he’d be dead in minutes. There was simply too many guys with guns. The best plan he had was to wait. Eventually, either the buyers or the sellers would leave. He could take the remaining guys down, call the police, then get a tracker on the other guys.

And that’s exactly what he did. The buyers left first, clearly experienced enough to know not to stick around, but Peter was certain they didn’t see the spider bot that latched on to the bottom of their van.

He watched from above as the police arrived to apprehend the criminals he left webbed up for them. Then he was off to track the others.

His tracker lead him to a warehouse in a pretty dead neighborhood. Classic bad guy lair.

Peter staked the place out, but there was no movement to be seen. Silently, he found a way in. He’d expected a load of henchmen to some big boss or at least a handful of criminals dividing up the cash. Yet, there only seemed to be one man in the entire building. He stood at the center of it all, clearly waiting for Spiderman. Somehow, this didn’t appear to be a trap, but what else could it be?

Having no other choice, Peter dropped down into the room. The man that turned to face him was none other than Tony Stark, the Kingpin of Crime. Peter was admittedly shocked. He didn’t think he was important enough for Tony Stark of all people to spend his time on.

“Mr. Parker,” the Kingpin greeted.

Again, Peter was shocked. It must have shown in his silence.

“Yes, I know who you are, Spiderman. I know everything about you. You’ve been a tad pesky lately.” The Kingpin clasped his hands in front of him. “What are we going to do about that, Mr. Parker?”

“Threaten me if you want, but I have lives to protect. That's not going to stop me.” Peter stood strong, fists clenched.

“Yes,” he smiled. “You’re so noble. You risk your life to protect others. You're the one thing in this city that isn't made of shit and smog. This time though, I’m not threatening you, Spiderman. This is about your Uncle Benjamin.”

Spiderman narrowed his eyes, his expression translating through his mask. “You leave my family out of this!”

The man stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Relax, kid. I haven’t done anything to harm your family. Dear Benjamin did this to himself. You are aware of your uncle’s past are you not?”

“What are you talking about?” Peter scowled.

The Kingpin smiled. “You don’t know do you? Your dear Uncle Ben is a junkie.”

Peter didn’t believe what he was hearing. Ben, a junkie? He wasn’t sure Benjamin Parker new what drugs were let along where to get them. “You’re lying. You don’t know my uncle.”

“I applaud your loyalty. You must really love him to be so blind. Well, I’m under the impression that he was clean for some time, but something seems to have pushed him right off the wagon. Any idea what that might be?” The Kingpin tilted his head in curiosity. “No? Well, I guess I don’t really need to know the whole story, but would you like to know what I know?”

“Save your breath. I’m not interested in your games.” Peter shot a web straight up at the ceiling but before he could slingshot his way out of the window, Stark spoke again.

“Don’t you at least want to call his lawyer for him?”

Peter frozen momentarily. “What?”

“I didn’t come all this way by my little lonesome just to say 'hi'. You uncle is in deep shit and if you want to save him, you’re gonna need my help. This isn't a problem that can be trapped in your webs.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“Don’t worry. This isn’t a one time offer. I’ll give you a week. One week and then you call me, tell me you want me to handle it for you. Otherwise, old Benny is on his own.”

Peter glared again. “And if I don’t call you, what? You’ll make sure he ends up in prison?”

Stark raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “No no no, not at all. If Benjamin goes to prison it’s on him. We’ll, now at least I’m putting it on you. I’ll let you talk to him and find out for yourself how hopeless his case is.” He pulled a business card from his coat pocket and waited for Peter to take it, dropping it on the ground when he didn't. “When you realize you need me, my lawyers are Nelson and Murdock. Give them a call.”

Peter pulled himself up and out the window. He swung across the city. “The Kingpin is full of it,” he said to himself. “May and Ben are both safe at home. Like they always are this time of night.” He sighed, landing on a rooftop in sight of the house. What the hell was he going to do if Stark was telling the truth?

He climbed in through the window and changed out of his suit. Leaving his room and calling for his uncle Peter spotted May on the couch. She was hunched over sniffling.

“May? What's wrong?” He quickly joined her on the couch, heart pounding. No, it couldn't be.

She gave him a weak smile. “We need to talk, Peter...”

Peter shook his head. He looked at the drying tears on her cheeks and the phone held in both of her hands. “Did something happen to Ben?”

She nodded. “He's okay, but he's... I don't know when he's coming home. There's something you don't know about your uncle.”

He shook his head again. “May... please don't...”

She patted his knee. “We have to talk about this. We've hid it from you only because there was no reason for you to know. You uncle is a good man and he's always taken care of us. We never wanted you to think any differently.”

“Don't worry about me, May. I already know. It doesn't change anything.”

“Don't tell me it was that bully kid you went to school with. We would have told you ourselves if we knew anyone was going to hold it against you.”

“No, it's not that. Besides high school was a whole other life time.” Peter settled into the couch. All of this was leaving him feeling like a whole new chapter was starting as well. He never had asked much about his family's past. At least not May and Ben's. “Tell me what happened with Uncle Ben.”

May proceed to explain Ben's struggle with drugs, starting with pills when they were in high school and progressing into harder things in college. When their relationship turned serious Ben made an effort to cut back, but never fully did until Peter's parents died. He had been clean ever since. Until suddenly he wasn't.

“I noticed him acting differently these past few weeks,” she explained. “Then, tonight I get a call from a police officer. They caught him buying. His trial isn't for a few weeks, but I just can't afford his bail.”

Peter wrapped an arm around his aunt's shoulders. “He's gonna be okay. I'll look into it. Maybe I can come up with the money.”

May sighed. “This isn't his first offense, Peter. They set it good and high. His bail will cost us as much as three months rent.”

Stark was right about all of it. If the bail was set that high it was because they didn't want him out on the streets. He wasn't worth trusting to behave himself.

“We'd be better off saving up what we can for a lawyer. Maybe we can afford him a decent one this time. That last time... he served two years,” she said quietly.

Peter's heart broke. Ben was in real trouble. With every word May spoke the Kingpin's words floated through his mind. He couldn't trust Tony Stark. But he couldn't find a good lawyer, if he couldn't find the money to _pay_ a good lawyer, then Ben was going to end up in prison. After a two year sentence, who knew what they'd hit him with next. He could spend the rest of his life in a concrete and steel box.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter called every lawyer in the city. Not one of them would help him. Most of them wouldn't even take his calls. All except for one anyway. Peter saw the number in the phone book for Nelson and Murdock and he glared at it. He didn't know much about Mr. Nelson, but Matt Murdock aka Matt 'Muderdock' had a reputation for being one of the most dangerous and twisted men in Hell's Kitchen. And that really says something. He couldn't call them. Even if Stark hadn't told him that they were his personal lawyers. No way was he going to hire a guy nicknamed Muderdock. Stark could pay off as many lawyers as he wanted to keep them away from him. There had to be at least one that wouldn't give in to him.

After all the loss he had suffered, Peter wasn't ready to loose his uncle, too. Gwen was dead, Harry was gone, MJ wouldn't answer his calls or texts. His family was all that he had left. He had to do something to save Ben. But there had to be another way. There had to be _someone_ other than Murdock.

It was a few days before Peter was able to visit his uncle. Between school, work, and looking for a second job, it was hard to find the time. Looking at his uncle through a barrier of glass, Peter almost wished he hadn't come. Ben looked twenty years older. His face was stubbly, his eyes were dark, he kept looking over his shoulder as if he were feeling paranoid. He looked almost like a completely different person. They sat for a moment, just looking at each other, phones to their ears, before either of them spoke.

“Did May tell you?” Ben asked.

Peter nodded. “She told me everything. I think... It's gonna be okay, Uncle Ben.”

His uncle sighed. “It's not okay, Peter. If they hadn't picked me up off the street who knows where I'd be right now.”

“I'm working on a lawyer. I'm gonna get you out of here.”

Ben smiled fondly. “I'm sure you're working hard, Pete, but don't worry about me. I got myself into this mess. You focus on school and taking care of May. She needs you.”

“We need _you_ , Ben.”

His uncle looked broken as he stared down at the table top in front of him. “I'm so sorry, Peter. I'll never be the man your father was, but I tried so hard to be a good father figure for you.”

“You are,” Peter promised.

“No. For a while, I was good enough. I was the best man that Benjamin Parker could ever be. I don't know if I'll get another chance to try again, but I hope at least for a while I did right by you.”

Peter felt tears welling in his eyes. “It sounds like you're trying to say goodbye...”

“I am, Peter. I don't want you spending all your time in here visiting me. Unless it's important, you just leave me be. I call May often enough. You know I can't ask her to stop, but I'm asking you. Go live your life, Peter. For all of our sakes. Stop worrying about me and what I've done.”

It wasn't right. Peter's grip on the phone tightened and he had to drop it when he heard the plastic start to crack. Men like Tony Stark stood on top of the world. The Kingpin had done a million and one terrible things and would continue to do so for as long as he walked free. But Ben Parker, a loving husband, a good man, made one bad choice and that was it?

Peter put the phone to his ear again. “I won't give up on you, but I can respect that you don't want me hanging around here. Just... keep in touch with May alright? We're not gonna stop fighting for you out here. So don't you give up on us either.”

Ben smiled. “Yeah. I must have done something right.”

Despite the determination he'd shown Ben, Peter left the court house feeling defeated. Ben didn't sound like there was hope for him coming home any time soon. Peter still hadn't found a lawyer that was willing to help and even if he had it wasn't like they had a case. His uncle was caught in the act. At this point they were looking at a plea deal at best. Ben's only chance of coming home was to get him a lawyer that could twist the law around until it worked in a criminal's favor. Was he ready to give in Stark to quickly? Odds were, once he found out what the Kingpin wanted in return then he wouldn't be so ready to sign on. The problem was, he wasn't sure if he had a choice.

Walking down the street from the court house, Peter's spidey-sense flared to life. He looked up at the roof top across the street to see a man dressed in red standing at the ledge. Peter looked around until he found a shady corner of an alley and then climbed the wall and made his way to the roof of the building. Somehow, he didn't realize he was surrounded until the man in red turned to face him and an army of shadowy ninja appeared around him.

“Afternoon, Mr. Parker,” said the man. “I am Matt Murdock, attorney. At your service.” His hands wrapped gracefully around the jewel at the end of his cane in a practiced motion.

Peter looked the man over from his red tinted glasses to his shiny red leather shoes. This was no doubt Matt Murdock aka Matt Murderdock aka the Kingpin's pet. His response was on his tongue before he had a moment to think about it. “I'm not-”

“Interested,” Murdock finished for him. “That's a lie. I saw you walking down the street with doubt and conflict on your face. You don't want to need my help, but you do. In my professional opinion, your uncle is in deep shit.”

“I thought you were blind,” was Peter's brilliant come back. He had absolutely no ground to stand on. At least it was Murdock who showed up to bully him. There was something about the Kingpin that was alluring. It would have been even more difficult to stand the ground the he didn't really have.

“Don't change the subject, little Parker,” Murdock sighed. “Your uncle is in danger, but your uncle is not a dangerous man. Imagine him in prison. Orange jumpsuit, bologna and instant potatoes for every meal, bending over for whatever much more intimidating man decides your dear Ben looks like a fun ride.”

Peter's stomach knotted. “Shut up.”

Murdock smirked. “You know I'm right. It's amusing to watch you tear your own mind apart resisting, though. I'm not as patient as my employer. My offer is going once.... going twice...”

“Fine,” Peter mumbled.

“What was that?”

“You're also deaf now, too?” Peter snapped.

Murdock chuckled. “Oh, Stark is going to have a lot of fun with you. I'll advise you not to piss him off. You're cute, but you're not that cute.”

“What does the Kingpin want?” Peter folded his arms over his chest. He didn't feel good about any of this, but he was backed into a corner.

“Kingpin? _No_ , Tony Stark is an honest entrepreneur. This ' Kingpin of Crime' business-”

“Don't bullshit me, Murdock. I'm tired.”

Murdock shrugged. “His assistant will call you in the morning. I would cancel any plans you have for the day. You're going to be busy.”

“Fine.” Peter turned away, refusing to let the weaselly man get under his skin. He heard Murdock laugh behind him.

“I can't wait to see your spirit broken, Mr. Parker.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he climbed down from the roof. Murdock was an asshole and it didn't matter what he said. He was just a means to an end. A really scary end that meant he was indebted to Tony Stark. He had no idea what the Kingpin wanted from him, but it was probably illegal. Peter figured that as long as he didn't have to kill or maim anyone then it would be worth it to save Ben.

He spent the night as Spiderman, unable to calm his mind. Even when the sun came up, he didn't bother to go home. It wasn't like he was going to be able to sleep. He didn't expect Stark to call his regular cell phone anyway. If he was going to get a call from the Kingpin, the call was going to be for Spiderman and not Peter Parker.

Sure enough when the call came in, it was through the Spidey-line. Peter answered the call.

“Hello?”

Without preamble, the feminine voice responded, “Mr. Stark requests that you meet him in his office at Stark Tower.”

“When?”

“Immediately,” she responded and then ended the call.

Peter sighed. “She's as hospitable as her boss.” Still, he swung his way across the city to Stark Tower and dropped against a window near the top. He crawled along until he spotted Stark in his office.

Peter knocked on the glass. Technically, a window on this floor shouldn't open all the way for safety reasons yet the window next to him slowly opened itself wide to allow him entrance. He dropped to the floor and cautiously made his way around Stark's desk.

“You know, you should rethink that window design,” he commented.

“Then how would little spiders get in?” Stark smirked.

“You're expecting me to come and go?” Peter glanced around the room, but it seemed he was completely alone with the man. He knew that could change at the drop of a hat. As long as Stark wanted something from him, he wouldn't sic his men on him would he? Figuring it was best not to seem anxious, Peter threw himself down in the plush chair across from Stark.

“You came when I called didn't you?” he said, evading the real question. He stood up from his seat and crossed the floor to a table where he poured himself a drink. He came back to lean against his desk. His long legs were so close to Peter's.

Peter looked up at him feeling unimpressed, though there was something the way Stark's leg wasn't quite touching his own. “What do you want, Stark?”

The man clicked his tongue in a scolding manner. “All business and no pleasure? What sort of hero will you be when you burn yourself out?”

Peter glared through his mask. “Better a tired hero than a heartless con man.”

Stark leaned away from the desk and took one very dangerous step in Peter's direction, a fire in his eyes. “I am not a con man.” He smoothed his face over. “It may be that I seek out those in need, but only to offer them my aid.”

Peter refused to be intimidated. “And you kill and torture them when they can't pay you.”

“This city doesn't need any more dead beats. We have plenty.” Stark shrugged and took a drink from his glass.

“Stop going out of your way to create them then.”

Stark narrowed his eyes. He set the glass down on the table. “You're not here to speak, Spiderling. You're here to do a job.” His hands gripped the end of the desk. “There are some people who are causing me a great deal of trouble. You're going to eliminate them for me.”

“There's nothing you could offer me or my family that would make me into a killer, Mr. Stark.”

Stark smiled gently. “No, I would never want to turn you into something less than you are. Believe it or not, I respect what you do. You might get in my way, but it's only that we have two different ways of achieving the same goal. Such youthful naivety,” he sighed.

“I won't ask you to kill anyone, Mr. Parker. It's a simple job. You'll go where I tell you to, web up a few criminals in the way that you always do and alert the police. They'll come and take care of the rest.”

“That's it?” It was hard to believe the Kingpin wanted nothing more than for him to do his job. There had to be a catch.

“That's it. Though, I'll be sending some of my men with you. They're under orders to stay out of your way and out of sight until you get into trouble. I won't have my spider returning to me damaged.” He winked.

Peter breath caught for a moment and he kicked himself for it. “What did these criminals do?”

“In the future, I'll ask you not to question me. But so it eases your mind, they're arms dealers. The illegal kind. Their weapons will be bought by other criminals from all over the city who will go on to kill countless people.”

“And you don't want competition.”

“I don't sell to petty thieves.”

“No, just the Maggia.”

Stark's knuckles turned white as he gripped the desk top. “I'm in control of every little thing that happens in this city. It's best if it stays that way. Things would crumble without me. I keep the worst evils at bay let me assure you, boy.” The man bent forward and his hand gripped Peter's thigh. “You belong to me now, Peter Parker. So stop testing my patience and do as you're told. Don't let that pretty little mouth get you into trouble.”

He stepped back and walked back around the desk. He seemed calmer now as he sat down in his chair with his drink in his hand. “They're waiting for you down in the garage. Do a good job and your uncle will receive a visit from his new lawyer this afternoon.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to post this chapter, but I have zero self control <3

Peter was admittedly frazzled by the way Stark had touched him. In fact, there was a tension between them that he was loath to admit. The best that he could do was ignore it. He couldn't be spending his time lusting after Tony Stark of all people. The man was a monster. He was convinced that this whole job he was told to do was some kind of trick. He had to be vigilant going into it. If even the slightest thing seemed fishy then that was it. He could still walk away from this.

The garage was all the way down in the basement, which made Peter wonder what was in the subbasement. As Stark had said, there was a van full of men waiting for him. They were all laughing and talking, hanging out at the back of the vehicle. They all froze when they saw Spiderman get off the elevator.

“What the hell?” one of them asked.

“Hey, guys! I didn't know my fan club was gathering today.” He stopped in front of the group and half of them broke out into smiles.

“Well shit,” one man said and he stood up from the back of the van. “I never doubt the Kingpin, but I thought maybe he was joking when he said Spiderman was helping with this job.”

“It's not exactly the first sign of the apocalypse, but it kinda feels like it,” Peter quipped.

“Yeah, no kidding.” The man shook the bemused look from his face. “Well I'm Max. This is Ted, Roger, and Keith. It's great to meet you like this. My kid's a big fan.”

“I'd offer you a selfie, but I'd rather word didn't get out...”

“Right, I get it. You can't keep a secret in this city for long, but you can try right?” Max shrugged. “Anyway, let's get moving before the boss catches us chatting. You got the run down from him right?”

“Yeah, I think I got it. I do all the heavy lifting and you guys hang out just in case.”

Max laughed. “Yep, that's about it. It'll be nice to go home to the wife without blood on my hands for once.”

Peter stared until he got an awkward laugh. Then the boys all loaded up in the van. Peter waited for the garage door to open, then he followed the van up and out. He swung above them through the city until they parked outside of the target building. A quick audio scan gave him all the info he needed about the people inside. They were definitely arms dealers.

He snuck in though a vent and crawled his way into the building. It was quick and clean. Each criminal found themselves webbed up and immobile before they ever saw him coming. He crawled around for a while making sure he hadn't missed anyone before he let the Kingpin's men in. They gave the place one last sweep. Max gave Spiderman a salute and then they were on their way back to Stark tower.

The whole thing felt too easy, too clean, too right. It felt like a normal job. He could have just as easily been swinging through this part of the city and picked up their radios on his scanner. He could have ended up here on his own, webbing these guys up and calling the police, and doing his job, like he was right now. Except that he'd had no idea that these guys were here. Odds were that by the time he did end up on this side of town, the weapons would have been long gone. Tony Stark just saved lives by pointing him in their direction. If Peter didn't know that it was all about money, he'd actually thank the guy.

He waited for the police to arrive before sneaking out again. The whole way back to Stark tower, he couldn't seem to quiet his mind. It was bugging him just how little was wrong with that whole job. No one died, no one stole anything, it didn't seem to be a cover for anything else. He'd watched Stark's men closely and none of them did anything suspicious. Maybe while they were outside? That was impossible unless their mission was to steal something out of a dumpster. Could it be possible that Stark truly just wanted those men out of his way?

He spent a while watching the tower from the wall of the next building over. He couldn't puzzle out what was going on. In the end he decided, it didn't matter if Stark was playing him as long as he was being honest about helping Ben.

A call came in on his spider-phone. “Spiderman,” Peter answered.

“Quit stalking me and come inside.” Stark's voice came over the line.

“What? I was just-”

“Thinking too much. Come inside, let me assure you that all is well.”

Peter didn't like the enticing way that Stark spoke to him. It was like sugar, but the diet kind that leaves a bad taste on your tongue. He swung down across the street and scaled the side of the building to reach the top floor. Tony Stark watched the window expectantly. Peter slipped inside the office to meet him.

“Well, Mr. Parker. What did you think?”

Peter closed the window, buying himself time to keep thinking. “I expected an ambush to be honest.”

“Why would I go to all the trouble when I already have you under my thumb?”

Peter shivered as he faced the man. Stark's eyes were dark and his lips turned up at the corners. “I'm still not convinced it's as simple as you want me to believe.”

“See for yourself then.” Picking up a remote, Stark turned on the news.

A woman's voice spoke over an image of police loading the still partially webbed up criminals into their cars. “With Spiderman's assistance, the NYPD were able to stop these criminals from distributing illegal weapons to potentially hundreds of people in New York. The police are saying that these men appeared to be working alone and had no connection to the Maggia or various other criminal organizations known in the city.”

The screen switched the image of a police officer. “With a group this small in a city this big and with as much as we have on our plates right now, it's possible that we would have never found these weapons in time to stop them from getting out there. I guess we all owe Spiderman thanks this time...”

“It's great to see our city's beloved Spiderman working together with our heroic police force,” said the newscaster. Then Stark turned the screen off again.

“See, you're as heroic as ever. You did a good thing today.”

Peter stood with arms crossed. His brain struggled to find the thing he had to be missing. “You really just wanted those guys off the streets because they were costing you money?”

“Yep,” Stark nodded.

“Where are the guns? Did you leave them for the police?”

“Every last one. They'll all be in police lock-up by now.”

Peter shook his head. It was frustrating. Something was wrong, it just had to be. He took a deep breath. If he didn't stop worrying about it he would drive himself crazy and if he insulted the Kingpin by calling him a liar then he was putting Ben's future in danger. All he could do was let it go and hope for the best.

“Okay,” Peter said finally looking the man in the eye.

Stark smirked. Hands in his pockets he stepped closer until he was entirely in Peter's space. “Now, what do you say, little spider?”

Peter swallowed. The man was way too close. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.” There was heat and tension in the air between them. The way Stark's lips spread into a smile, Peter wondered if he noticed it, too. Not only was the man attractive, he was powerful. As heinous and criminal as he was, the thought of him holding New York in his hands made Peter's heart pound.

“You can go now,” Stark said, interrupting Peter's alarming internal monologue. “Someone will call you when you're needed again.”

“And how long do I have to keep doing jobs for you until we're even?”

Stark tucked his hands into his pockets. “Until Benjamin Parker's trial. I'm not an unreasonable man, I won't keep you forever. A deal is a deal.”

Again, it was weird. It was beyond weird, that Stark wasn't taking advantage of Peter's abilities for something criminal and it was weird that he wouldn't keep Peter on his leash forever now that he knew all of his secrets. Why wasn't he threatening to out him or to go after his family? Obviously he could do either of those things easily, yet he chose to play this game instead. Peter considered asking him for an explanation, but most likely he wouldn't get a straight answer. He would just have to keep tip-toe-ing along until he figured it out. Unless he figured it out too late.

He couldn't afford to screw up. Most of the police force thought he was a criminal and it would only take the slightest miss step to send them after him in full force.

 

\----------

Ben walked the dingy halls of the jail house, following behind the officer who escorted him. He wasn't sure how May could have possibly afforded to hire an attorney, but she and Peter were resourceful. He just hoped it wasn't costing them too much. May really liked her bingo nights. He'd hate for her to give them up for his sake. He'd gotten himself into this mess after all.

They took him into a room and sat him down at a table. A man dressed entirely in red stood across from him, facing the wall. An officer intended to hand cuff Ben to the table, but the man in red flicked his wrist.

“That won't be necessary, officer. I think I can handle this poor creature on my own don't you?”

Ben scowled, but the officer left with a nod. As the door closed the man turned around. Ben looked from the cane in his hands to the red tinted sunglasses on his face.

“Mr. Parker, I am-” he started.

“Mathew Murdock. I know who you are.” It was hard to believe. There was no way May could have afforded a leach like Murdock. “What the hell do you want?”

The lawyer click his tongue. “Is that anyway to talk to a friend? I'm here to help you. It would seem someone very wealthy has an interest in your case. They'll handling my fee so don't you worry about that. All I need from you is something I can work with so you can go home to your loving wife and nephew!”

Ben slammed his fist down on the table. “Don't you talk about my family you murdering bastard. I don't need or want your help. I don't care who's paying or why. You're not getting shit from me. I'd rather represent myself.”

Murdock leaned over the table and he pursed his thin lips. “Careful, Mr. Parker. If I leave this room now I won't be back and you _won't_ find another attorney who's willing to represent you. This is your last chance to cooperate.”

“Then I only have one thing to say to you.” He glared. “Go to hell, Murdock, and don't come back.”

Murdock smirked. He walked up to the door and tapped it with his cane. A guard opened the door. “I see where he gets it from,” he said as he left.


	4. Chapter 4

When Peter arrived at his meeting with the Kingpin the next day, Murdock was already there in Stark's office. Anxious to hear how his uncle was doing and if his case had any hope, he crawled into the room and closed the window behind him without waiting for an invitation.

“Mr. Parker,” Stark greeted. “We were waiting for you.”

“Anxiously,” Murdock said with a twitch of his lips.

“I hope you have good news,” Peter said.

Stark tucked his hands into his pockets. “Actually,” he cleared his throat. “We have a problem.”

“It seems you take heavily after your uncle, Mr. Parker. He has refused to have anything to do with me.” Murdock sat down in one of Stark's plush chairs, practically blending in to the red fabric.

“What? Then send your partner. Isn't there two of you?” There had to be a way this could still work. Why couldn't Ben just accept the man's help? He clearly needed it.

“We could try, but do you think he would accept assistance from anyone associated with me? Highly unlikely.” He rested his chin on his hands where they held the end of his cane. He seemed to be watching Peter despite his blindness.

Peter sighed. He looked away, staring at the wall. There had to be something they could do. He didn't sign up with the Kingpin for nothing.

“If I may offer a solution, but I believe you'll like this even less,” Stark said. “I may be able to persuade the judge on your uncle's case to be lenient with him. Letting him walk free won't be possible for a man in his position. It would be too suspicious.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Anyone of your cronies could walk.”

“Anyone of mine would allow Mr. Murdock to represent them. No one would question the city's most successful criminal defense lawyer getting a man off,” Stark countered with an amused smile. “We can't risk someone connecting the dots. I would never be that careless.”

“So you want to pay off a judge to let my uncle go with a lighter sentence?”

“I've already done some talking with the city's prosecutor. She intends to push for six years,” Murdock said.

“Six.” Peter's head spun.

“I can take care of it,” Stark said. “A little cash in the right hands and your uncle will be home in a year. Less for good behavior.” He encroached on Peter's space again and the young man found himself breathing a little too quickly. “I might even be persuaded to ensure his safety on the inside.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Murdock get up and leave. The office door closed. Stark stepped forward until Peter's back hit the wall.

“My interest in you runs a bit deeper than Spiderman,” Stark said. His voice was low, hypnotic. “If I'm going to double up on my end then I expect you to double up, too. I want Spiderman and I want Peter Parker.”

It was getting a little hot under his mask. Peter swallowed. “What do you mean?” He knew. He knew what Stark meant. He could just say no. He _knew_ he could.

The man licked his lips. “I see the way your breath catches when you look at me. You've got daddy issues huh? Give me what you've been dying to give all along and I'll take care of everything you need.”

Peter's heart hammered in his chest. Stark wasn't even touching him, but there was electricity in the air like static connecting them. He tried to remember how to breath before he spoke. “What if I say no?”

“I'm still willing to make a deal with Spiderman alone. If I wanted to force you, I already would have.”

“So not rape, just coercion,” Peter snarked.

Stark narrowed his eyes. “Maybe I'll take my offer back...”

Peter reached his hands up behind his head and slipped off his mask. He shook his hair in the hope of fixing the mess his mask had made of it. When he blinked his eyes at Stark he saw a heat in the man's eyes that he'd never experienced before.

“But you don't want to do that,” Peter said. “You're a man used to getting what he wants.” A man used to taking what he wants, Peter thought.

“You're not wrong.” Stark's eyes flicked down to his lips before dragging their way up to his eyes again. “What's it going to be, little spider?”

It bothered Peter how little his current position bothered him. It bothered him how much it didn't bother him as opposed to how much it should. There was heat rolling off the man in front of him. Something possessive and dangerous lurked in his eyes. He was about to cross a line he couldn't come back from. He couldn't lie to himself and say it was for Ben either. Honestly, he didn't want to think about his uncle while he was thinking about the Kingpin bending him over his desk. Which is exactly what he was thinking about.

“I think, Mr. Stark,” Peter looked from his heated eyes to his smirking lips. “You have yourself a deal.”

His wrists were caught in the Kingpin's hands and he was backed fully into the wall, arms pinned next to his head. “That's a good little spider.”

He repressed the urge to moan up until Tony's thigh met the bulge between his legs. He'd been pinned in a dozen fights before, but no villain had ever made him feel this way. The most interesting thing about it was that Stark wasn't actually strong enough to hold him down unless he let him; and he wanted to let him.

“Submissive little thing,” Stark teased. His lips brushed against the line of his jaw leaving Peter wanting more. When his hands trailed down Peter's arms and began to explore his body, Peter left his arms up against the wall.

There wasn't much to be felt through the armor of his suit, but he did feel made his skin ache to be touched. When had he gotten so touch starved?

When Stark stepped back from him it was a shock to his sensation craving system. The man went and sat in the plush chair in front of his desk. He rested his chin on his knuckles.

“Get that suit off and come here.”

Peter shivered. He was about to remove his armor in front of the Kingpin of all people. This was a bad stupid idea. But as his suit fell away and Stark admired his bare form, Peter cared a lot less about how stupid it was. All he wanted was strong, bloodstained hands on his skin. He came to stand in front of the man who sat back and examined him like a fresh cut of meat.

His hands started at Peter's hips. One hand brushed over strong abs. The other hand palmed the younger man's ass.

“I assumed that cat suit of yours left nothing to the imagination, but look at you,” Stark mused. “A masterpiece.”

Peter closed his eyes. The rhythm of his breathing missed a step at the compliment. Then Stark's hand wrapped around his hardening erection and the air hissed out, wrapped around the sound of his name, “Mr. Stark.”

His hands griped Stark's shoulders for balance. He moaned and his hips thrust forward into Stark's hand. The look on the man's handsome face was so rich with desire that Peter couldn't find it in him to be embarrassed about the sounds he was making. Every movement of Stark's hand was light and teasing. All the most sensitive spots received only a hint of his touch. Peter's mind screamed in a greedy chorus of 'more'. But Stark took his time, clearly enjoying every eager mewl and desperate whine.

Until Peter looked at him and asked, “Please, Mr. Stark.”

The gentle touch left his cock. Stark held his hip to turn him around. “Sit on my lap, sweetheart.”

Peter sat down, bare skin against the rich fabric of the Kingpin's suit. A hand slid up his chest to pull him back ward by his throat. Stark nipped at his skin as he brought his knees up to hold Peter's legs spread. Hand holding Peter's neck where he wanted it, his other hand returned to his cock. Peter keened as his cock was touched. He quickly felt lost in the man's embrace.

“You make a lovely pet, Peter,” Stark praised. “So responsive to my touch. I am particularly skilled,” he chuckled. “But, you were made to be played with.”

The man's touch was so slow that the pleasure in body climbed at a pace Peter had never had the patience to experience on his own. The scratch of stubble against his cheek and the scrape of teeth against his neck made him shiver. He could do nothing, but submit to the Kingpin's touch. And the man gave no indication that he ever intended on stopping.

As his climax built and his breathing picked up, his pace went no faster. Peter groaned, feeling frustrated, relief was so close. “Please, I need- please, Mr. Stark.”

The man chuckled darkly in his ear. “You're in no position to ask anything more of me, spider. You wanted to give yourself to me, didn't you?” The hand around his neck tightened. “I will take you at my own pace.”

Peter whimpered. “Mr. Stark.”

“Hush now, little one. Daddy's enjoying his new toy.”

Peter melted. Somehow he cared less about getting off and more about keeping Stark's hands on him. He relaxed into his arms once more as the man continued to play with him. Stark lavished him in biting kisses and long twisting strokes of his hand. Peter mewled and whined at the touches that weren't quite enough. All he wanted was _more_ and _everything_.

“Touch me, Mr. Stark,” he whined.

Stark laughed lightly. “I am touching you, spiderling. Do you need it somewhere else? What about here?” He released the young man's cock, knuckles trailing a line up to his chest to toy with a nipple. He rubbed then he pinched, gave an experimental tug.

Peter whined and squirmed in his arms. He spread his legs wider, hooking them over the arms of the chair. “No, please...”

“Oh, how dare I stop stroking your little dick?” Stark teased. “But there's so much more to be touched. Aren't these cute?” He pinched and pulled one nipple than the other smiling as the boy squirmed and whined. “Look at you, you're slutty all over. Every part of you needs me.”

His hand left Peter's chest going down to his thighs, ignoring his cock and reaching instead for his balls. “What about these? This slutty, too?” Peter moaned as Tony handled him. “And down here?” A finger pressed again his anus.

“That's where you want me, isn't it? Little cock slut, can't wait to have me deep inside?” He pressed the end of his finger in, withdrawing just as Peter made a sound. “I know that's what you want. But not today.”

Stark's hand wrapped once again around his cock, stroking him instantly much faster than before. A surprised sound left Peter's lips and melted into moans. “That what you need, baby?”

“Oh, yes,” Peter moaned. “Yes, Mr. Stark.” His hips pressed up into Stark's hand looking for more. He breathed like he was running a marathon as he got closer, closer, so close only to release a frustrated shout as the hand left his cock to pull him back into Stark's lap.

Stark kissed the side of his neck. “Don't rush it, baby. I want to take my time.” He stroked a single finger up Peter's length and he whined.

“Mr. Stark,” he panted. “Please.”

“I'm going to do it again,” Stark promised. “And again, and again.” He pulled Peter's head back, hand just under his chin. His tongue flicked out to lick the shell of his ear. Peter shivered and Stark smiled.

“Please. Please don't,” Peter begged.

“Stop me, Spiderman. I won't punish you for being weak,” he chuckled. “You don't want me to stop do you?” Peter bit down on his bottom lip. “You want to be touched and teased and played with. Don't you, little spider?”

“Please, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered in reply. And he got what he asked for.

Held in the Kingpin's arms, Peter whined and pleaded, but he never moved. Stark brought him to the edge enough times that tears trailed down Peter's cheeks from the torturous stimulation. He was so close to breaking, to pushing the man's hands away, but he truly didn't want to. He kept his hands squeezing the arm rests of the chair and out of the way. Stark praised him for being a good boy, a good slut. Then finally, he kept going.

“Mr. Stark- Mr. Stark,” Peter panted.

“Do it, gorgeous. Let me see you cum,” Stark purred in his ear.

The wood under Peter's fingers cracked. He keened as Stark's clever fingers finally brought him over the edge. Streaks of cum painted his stomach. He couldn't remember having an orgasm that good in all his life. He felt drunk on it as his weight sunk into Stark's lap.

Stark brushed his hair back from his forehead. He placed a kiss against his temple in a surprising gesture of affection. “You okay, Pete?”

Peter's words floated along a contented moan. “I'm great, Mr. Stark,” he slurred.

His chest shook with a small laugh. He carded his fingers through Peter's hair like he couldn't get enough of its softness. They stayed that way for a few minutes. Then Stark cleared his throat and pushed Peter up out of his lap.

“Don't you have a city to save?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Peter looked at him, forehead scrunching in confusion. “Yeah, I do.” He cleaned up his sticky mess with the tissues that were on Stark's desk and slid his suit back on. His stomach was in knots. “That's it then?”

“For now. I'll make a few calls on your uncle's behalf. You'll know when I want you back here.”

“Great. Thanks.” Peter thwiped his way out of the window feeling petulant. Tony Stark was a grade A dick wad.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have another chapter because I've been working on this instead of taking that hiatus like I meant to

Tony Stark was a jerk. A selfish, murdering, criminal, jerk. And Peter had a hard on for him. A literal hard on which made it really had to focus in class and twice as hard to focus at his job after school. Thank goodness that Mr. Albie was a kindhearted man and he didn't mind too much that Peter was distracted and accidentally handed an old woman three dollars too much change. Who pays for a corn-dog with a twenty anyway?

He kept checking his phone as if he honestly believed Stark was going to call him. How often was the guy really going to need him anyway? Surely not every day. He felt like a love struck teenager and the worst thing was that love was the last thing he was feeling. At best he was a lust-drunk barely-adult. It was just that every touch of Stark's body against his, every word his low voice sang to his ears, all lingered in his mind. Peter wasn't known for his memory so it was disappointing to find that it was betraying him once again by remembering the one thing he was trying to push out of his mind.

He needed to focus on work. On making good grades and taking care of May. He'd have to make sure she was okay without Ben there to look after her. It wasn't that May was incapable of course, but anyone would feel down if their partner was suddenly gone from their life. She must have been suffering. Peter was glad he hadn't moved out of their place yet. He'd been trying to save up for it for a while. He'd talked about getting an apartment with MJ. Then what happened with Gwen... happened and well... He and MJ weren't exactly on speaking terms. He still had nightmares about holding his friend in his arms as she died. Eyes full of guilt and pain. Or maybe she was just disappointed. Peter figured he would be too if he tried to give himself superpowers and ended up turning into a monster instead.

Feeling guilty yet again, Peter tried texting MJ- yet again. He didn't expect a response, but she at least deserved to know he cared about how she was doing. He sent a text to Harry while he was at. At the end of the day Peter had zero missed calls and zero new messages. He swung around the city for a few hours before going home to May.

Peter chatted with May for a while. She was up having a cup of coffee when he came it. There wasn't much for them to talk about since they were avoiding talking about Ben, but they managed to make small talk about the weather and something going on in the city. Crimes rates were at an all time low, which means very little in New York City, but May cheerfully mused that it might just be thanks to that Spiderman guy that no one is entirely sure about yet. At least everyone had stopped talking about that Lizard thing anyway. Everyone except for Gwen's dad that is. He was the one running the unofficial man-hunt to find “the Spiderman” after all. If only he knew Spidey lived next door.

Still drowning in guilt, but feeling marginally better thanks to his aunt's indirect praise, Peter went to his room. He couldn't sleep and thought about suiting back up, but he decided not to. The Kingpin could send him into something dangerous. He needed to be ready for anything. No matter what Tony Stark was, he could not be trusted.

The next time he got a call from Stark's secretary was three days later and just after he was walking out of his last class. Perfect timing. After stashing his bag somewhere (ie. webbing it to the side of a building with webs that wouldn't dissolve or break so no one could steal it) and changing into his suit, Spiderman arrived at Tony Stark's window.

“Peter,” Stark greeted. “Took you long enough.” There was something mirthful in his eyes despite his attitude. 

“What happened to 'Mr. Parker'?” Peter scowled under his mask. He didn't need Stark getting too friendly with him.

Stark quirked an eyebrow at him. “Sweetheart, you're so far in my debt that I'd hardly consider us equals.”

Great so not 'friendly' just 'shitty'. Seriously, what an ass. Taking a deep breathing and trying not to seem bothered, Peter sat on the edge of Stark's desk. Stark sat back in his chair and Peter hoped it wasn't visible the way he shivered as he took in the confident man in his fine navy suit.

“So, what can I do for you _Mr._ Stark?”

That earned him a smile. “Just another job. Nothing above your pay grade. Should be just as simple as the last one. In and out, my boys will watch your back.”

Peter had about seven and half questions and it was causing him almost literal pain not to ask them. Stark must have figured it out by his silence. He sighed.

“One question,” Stark offered.

“Why do you need me when you could just send the police after these guys yourself?”

“Cops go anywhere near this place and they'll be gone in minutes. I'll have to track them down all over again.”

“And there's something you're not telling me.”

Stark stood up from his chair and placed a hand on his cheek. Interestingly, Peter didn't sense any hostility there. “Just be a good spider and do what I tell you to.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter said just on the edge of sarcasm.

“Good boy.” Stark winked. And then it was as if the last time they were together was happening all over again. Peter shivered as he remembered every touch and every moan. He was salivating.

“So- uh- down to the um- garage?” Peter stuttered, back away from the desk and gesturing to the door.

“Mmhm,” Stark answered with an amused smile. “The boys are waiting for you.”

“Right, see ya.” Peter ducked out the door and slipped into the elevator. He let out a breath. He had been about three seconds from planting his knees on the floor and begging for it. He really needed to get a grip. If he spent all of his time lusting over the guy, he'd miss it when the bomb finally dropped.

The crew was waiting for him, hanging out around the truck once more. They all greeted him with gleeful cheers. Must have been nice to all but get the day off. Peter actually felt kind of good knowing that he was protecting these guys lives by taking down the bad guys (well, the other bad guys) without guns being involved.

It was the same routine as before. They loaded up in the van and left the garage with Spiderman behind them at a loose follow. They arrived at the scene and Spiderman found a way to slip in without being seen while the guys watched from across the street. And that's when the routine broke.

As Peter crawled into the largest room of the blacked out warehouse, he could see a group of thirty men all huddled together watching the ducts. They spotted him immediately.

Spider-sense threw him hard to the left and out of the way of the first volley of bullets. Peter swore. The Kingpin's men would be right behind him now. So much for keeping anyone safe.

As his back-up came running in, Spiderman tossed a web-bomb into the center of the huddle. Eight or so guys went down in a twisted mess of webs. A smoke bomb obscured Stark's men as they entered, but it would dissipate before long. Spiderman moved as quickly as he could, swinging from the ceiling, snatching guns, busting them into scrap and plonking them back down on enemy heads. All of this happened fast enough that no one appeared to be dead yet for which Peter was grateful as he fired webs left and right, pinning down the bad guys to walls and floors.

When it was all done, two of Stark's men had been shot. Spiderman sweeped the room and his stomach twisted to find one dead and three injured among the other guys. He stood in the heap of bodies, guilt bubbling up through his system. He'd been a part of this. He'd assisted criminals in shooting other criminals. He might as well have picked up a gun himself.

He called for an ambulance and spent the next eight minutes coming up with the best reason he could manage as to why this group of criminals was webbed up and the guys that shot them weren't. In the end he decided talking to the police wasn't worth it. They'd assume he was involved anyway and for once they would be right. He only waited around long enough to make sure the EMTs found the injured guys and then he was gone.

Slowly, Spiderman swung his way back to Stark Tower. Looking in the window, he saw that the crew was already back and those that weren't injured were in Stark's office. Max was talking to Stark who was prowling his was across the room. Two security guards were holding each of Roger's arms. Peter swung his way into the room.

“After everything I've done for you, Miller,” Stark snarled. Peter stopped just short of the desk, taking in the scene. He'd never actually seen the Kingpin in action and it was terrifying. “You could have gotten others killed. You could have gotten my Spider killed.”

Roger glanced at Spiderman and back to Stark. “That was the plan,” he said.

Stark adjusted the watch on his wrist. “Tell me who put you up to it and I'll make it quick.”

Roger glared. Peter felt dizzy. He was going to kill him. Dead like the guy they'd carried off in a stretcher, white sheet covering his face.

“I'm not telling you shit, Stark.” The last syllable was met with the sound of Stark's fist breaking his jaw.

Peter's brain told him to move, but he was frozen. He'd never frozen up before, yet there he was watching the guards hold Roger in place while Stark beat him unrecognizable. There were the sounds flesh pounding against flesh and bone against bone. He'd been in dozens of fights, but that's not what this was. It was cruel and debasing. Peter watched blood spatter the floor with every swing until Roger was unconscious. Stark growled and gave him one more for good measure. He shook the blood from his hand.

“Take him downstairs,” Stark ordered the guards. He turned to Max who was looking a bit pale in the face. “So, anything else I should know?”

Max shook his head. “No, sir. He was the only one.”

“You sure about that?” He pointed a bloody finger at him.

“I'll talk to the boys, but I'm certain it was just Roger.”

“No loose ends.”

“Yes, sir.” Max slipped out the door with a final glance at the puddle on the floor.

Stark turned around and his eyes met Peter's. There was a moment where they were both thinking the same thing with two very different reactions. _Why didn't you stop me, Spiderman?_ Fortunately, Stark didn't say it out loud so Peter didn't have to invent a reason, because honestly, he wasn't sure. What he knew was that after the first crushing blow of Stark's surprisingly effective fist, the feeling in Peter's gut had twisted deeper until it felt less like disgust and fear and more like the feeling you get when the roller coaster drops from the top of the first hill. His heart was pounding, he was full of adrenaline, and his dick was throbbing hard. It was disgusting and thrilling and he really wanted to be in that chair again with the Kingpin's freshly bloodied hand- Peter shook his head. Nope. Not going there.

“You okay, Spidey? No damage taken?” Stark opened a cupboard and pulled out a soft rag to clean his hands with. “You're looking a little flushed, sweetheart. You in pain?” He smirked.

“No I- uh- Not a scratch on me.”

“That's what I like to hear.” His shoes tapped on the floor as he came near, leaving the bloody rag on his desk. “Sure you're feeling okay?”

Peter nodded. Stark's hands cupped his cheeks. A small gasp escaped him at the gentle touch.

“Careful, darling,” Stark whispered. “Get too close and you'll be licking the blood from my knuckles.” Two fingers caught the end of Peter chin before he released him. He walked away and pulled his jacket off, inspecting the blood stains.

“You nearly beat him to death,” Peter accused.

“I wouldn't have needed to beat him if he'd just talked to me. He was being childish really.”

“You didn't have to-”

Stark stopped him with a glare. “Do not. Tell me how to handle my business. I don't _have_ to do anything. I don't _have_ to work my ass off fixing this city. But I love this city. So I do what I do. I warned you not to question me. So don't. Or there will be consequences, little spider.”

Peter's head said 'fight back', but he didn't. He held his tongue. Stark seemed pleased with his silence. The man sighed and sat down in his plush desk chair. “You can go now. You've got an econ test to study for.”

Peter was wrong. Tony Stark wasn't a jerk. He was a straight up dick.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter passed his econ test, no thanks to Stark. He also _almost_ managed to catch the Bodega Bandit, but somehow the guy lost him in an unexpected maze of school children on a field trip. So that was one point for Peter and one for the universe which was definitely out to get him. May seemed awfully tired whenever Peter saw her which was causing a lot of stress as they still weren't talking about Ben. And to top it off, Peter was having very confusing dreams about Tony Stark and his bloody knuckles. He always woke up feeling guilty about the body that he'd left behind in that warehouse.

Still no messages from MJ or Harry, but that was to be expected. He'd even given in and tried calling Norman to find out how Harry was, but his secretary wouldn't put him through. Everything was piling up in a way that made Peter feel helpless. Stark was taking care of things with Ben, but Peter had no control over that situation either. If the Kingpin decided he didn't want to help anymore than that was it for Ben. Having no control over his own life was crushing. The only time he found himself smiling anymore was when he helped old people cross the street or that time he stopped a thief from taking a kid's bike. The days felt dark.

And then the clouds parted. He was just finishing his work shift when he spotted a familiar face.

“Harry?”

The young man grimaced and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, Pete. It's me.”

“Harry Osborn? Wha- why? Two years, Harry!” Peter realized he was just standing there with his mouth open and pulled his friend into a hug instead. “Are you okay? Harry, where have you been?” He broke away from the hold to stare at Harry's face. It was different than he remembered. He looked worn and ragged. It was like he had aged five times faster than he should have.

Harry shrugged. “Nowhere really.”

“Bull. You don't have to explain. I'm just really glad you're back. You are back right?”

“Well, actually...” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “I know it's been a long time, but... can we talk somewhere a little more private?”

“Of course.” Peter lead the way and Harry fell into step beside him. They walked the familiar path back to the Parkers' place. They weren't quite there yet when Harry stopped.

“Listen, Pete. I left because... well at first it was because I needed some time after what happened to Gwen. Then there were other things...”

“What kind of other things?” Peter shook his head trying to decipher his friend's feelings.

Harry sighed, then he shrugged. “I joined the army. I saw things differently. I realized that I might have screwed up when what happened happened-”

“What happened to Gwen wasn't your fault, Harry.”

He shook his head. “Yeah. In a way it was. Because I just stood there. I stood there and I watched while Spiderman killed her.”

“He didn't know it was Gwen, he was trying to stop a monster before it killed someone.” He didn't mean it. He didn't know. God, if only he'd known.

“But I knew and I didn't say anything and I let her die. I let Spiderman kill her.”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek to keep from arguing further. As far as Harry knew, Peter had been in the bathroom when the whole thing went down. “I know it's hard, Har, but Gwen made her own choices. You didn't do that for her.”

Harry shook his head. “You weren't there, Pete. It was brutal... I see that guy out there saving lives, putting 'bad guys' in jail and I feel sick. He's a hypocrite. He has as much business protecting people as our high school janitor. If I had just opened my mouth or...”

Peter reached a hand out, but Harry took a step back. “I just wanted you to know...” Peter heard a soft beep from Harry's pocket. His spider-sense lit up as a machine swooped in and stopped, hovering behind Harry. “I'm doing this for Gwen. For us. Gwen's killer is still on the loose. I'm the only one who can bring him to justice.”

Harry stepped on to the hover-board and it lifted him off of the ground.

“Harry wait! Don't do this!” Peter tried to stop him, but Harry rose up out of his reach. He didn't look back as he flew away. “Oh, Harry... Oh _no_.”

Suddenly, it was darker than it had ever been before. As quickly as his joy at seeing his lost friend had consumed him, now there was fear. He hadn't seen the last of Harry, but he was genuinely wishing he had. This wasn't what he'd imaged their reunion to look like.

Peter was kind of tempted to simply never put on the suit again so that Harry's insane new green-clad persona couldn't find his intended target, but he figured the guy looked desperate enough to start threatening public safety to draw him out. The problem was, he didn't have a plan. 

As Spiderman, he swung around the city. He did what he always did, searched for crimes to prevent or stop. Before long he noticed he was being followed.

Two scary orange robots were hot on his heels. Harry couldn't have been far behind. Or maybe he was watching the show from the sidelines. Peter couldn't tell. He dodged and swung, keeping a fair distance from the bots. Then they started firing missiles. It was clear they didn't care how many apartments they took out trying to hit him, so landing on a rooftop Peter turned to face them.

“Hey! Do you have a demolition permit?” He jumped out of the way as a rocket landed and cracked the roof of the building. Peter winced. Okay, snark was not the best way to get the job done. “I know who you are, Harry Osborn. If you want to arrest me for Gwen Stacy's death, fine, but come down here and do it yourself!”

Decked out in green, Harry glided into view. “Who said anything about arresting you?”

Peter realized he'd been really naive. Of course Harry didn't just want him locked away. Gwen was dead. Harry wanted blood. If only he knew it was Peter's blood. Should he just take off the mask?

There was no way he could explain what had happened. There was simply no excuse for it. Gwen or no, he'd gone overboard in his fight with the Lizard. He'd been so new to having superpowers and he hadn't yet realized what a massive responsibility it was. He'd just been having fun like the idiot teenager he was and when reality came crashing down, when he realized that he could get hurt, that his _friends_ could get hurt and that it was left solely to him to do something about it, he'd snapped. He had gotten scared. Fear pushed him until he found himself holding Gwen in his arms as her consciousness faded. He didn't force Gwen to become the Lizard, but he didn't have to do what he did either.

He ducked and dodged around the Goblin's pumpkin bombs. The bots joined in. As much as they came at him, Peter knew, this wasn't all Harry had. He was toying with him. Peter felt guilty as he realized Harry was only giving back to him what he'd done to Gwen. The way he'd showed off, drawn it out... There was no way he could beat him. Not with all of his toys and all of his drive.

“Harry stop this!”

“Don't talk to me as if you know me! You're nothing but a murderer.”

He really should just take the mask off, but he didn't. He played a different card instead. He got under Harry's skin. “What's with all the hover-boarding and the toys, Osborn? Can't beat me without daddy's money?”

Harry stopped. “You're right, Spiderman. I don't need these toys.” The robots fell to the ground. Harry stepped down from his hover-board. “Let's get a little more hands on.”

A laser sword, that's what Harry came at him with. For a moment Peter couldn't do anything but dodge. Then he found an opening, webs caught Harry's leg and pulled him down, but he wasn't fast enough to keep him down. On his feet again, Harry came at him. Peter boiled. Fear, anger, frustration. All of the things he'd felt when he'd fought with Gwen. If he wasn't careful, this would end the same way. Another friend turned monster, another corpse. But the fighting, it made him feel powerful. After spending so much time feeling helpless recently, he couldn't help himself. He kept going, he pushed harder. He knocked Harry back striking him hard enough to dislodge the mask from his face. The face of his friend, twisted in hatred.

Peter knew he should stop this, knew he should show Harry his face. He kept going, until a well times pumpkin bomb sent him flying backward. When the dust cleared and he looked up, Harry had shed his Goblin suit.

“You know this... would have been Gwen's science fair project if you hadn't murdered her,” he held a vial filled with glowy green liquid. “You pushed her into creating it. Well, Dr. Connors laid the ground work, but Gwen was brilliant. She figured out what was missing and she fixed it. She idolized you, Spiderman. She just wanted to be like you. This is your fault.” He put the vial to his lips.

“Harry don't!” Peter shot his arm out to pull the vial away, but it had already filled Harry's mouth. “Harry!” Peter caught him as his friend collapsed in pain.

Harry shoved him away. Then he dove forward and caught Peter's throat in his hands. “When SHIELD found out about the serum, they jumped at the chance to replicate it. I made sure it found its way to me. Just for this. Now with Gwen's help, I can finally beat you.”

Peter felt the fabric of his mask slip away and Harry pulled. “Harry, wait!”

Harry's hand released his throat and his friend stumbled backward, eyes wide, hands trembling. “No... No you can't be... No nononono.” Harry was starting to hyperventilate.

“Harry, I'm-” Smoke came out of nowhere and obscured Peter's sight. He backed away choking until it cleared. He wasn't sure he believed his eyes for a moment, but then he remembered just exactly what his life looked like these days.

“Young lady, is this guy bothering you?” Murdock smirked.

Peter glared. “What are you doing here?”

“My job.” The man shrugged.

“And just what exactly does that entail?”

“Should I ask about _your_ job description? No, I don't think you'd like to share that with the class.” His lip twitched. “Nice work taking this one down. Honestly, I'm impressed.”

If it weren't for the two dozen ninja hanging out around them, Peter might have swung on the guy. Harry growled and struggled, but Murdock had put some impressive looking cuffs around his wrists. Peter wondered how long they would hold as Harry's skin began to turn green.

“Don't worry about the littlest billionaire, I have him under control. Run along to the boss now, little Parker. He wants to see you.”

Peter grit his teeth. He looked at his friend on the dirty rooftop. “What are you going to do with him?”

“Bosses orders,” Murdock offered instead of an explanation, but it served to say that he wasn't getting one.

Peter scowled. “I'm sorry, Harry,” he said. He didn't wait around to see if Harry even cared. He thwiped his way to Stark tower feeling like he'd hit rock bottom.

The window was open for him and flipped in through the opening. Stark was having a drink on the lounge in front of the TV. He ignored Peter as he approached. Peter glanced at the screen and back to the Kingpin, annoyed at being so blatantly ignored.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Honestly, no. I called for the other you.”

Peter sighed. He sat down on the other side of the couch. “I'm tired Mr. Stark. Just tell me what you want. It's been a long day.”

The man sipped his drink. “Sounds like you've had a long week with your boy friend back in town.”

“Harry and I broke up a long time ago. We're just friends. What do you want with him?”

“I didn't call you here to talk about that.” Stark set his drink down. Peter noted the way his posture changed. The way he leaned back, legs apart, looking directly at Peter.

Peter wasn't keen on changing the subject, but once again he recognized his lack of control. “What do you want then?”

“I'm expected to attend a gala this weekend. I'm bringing you as my date.”

Peter stared, mouth gaping, “But I-”

“Don't worry, Spiderman. It won't blow your cover for Peter Parker to be seen with me. It's not unusual for me to be seen with a pretty young man on my arm. And that's all you'll have to do. Look pretty. I'm sure you can manage that.” Stark's eye twinkled.

Peter grit his teeth. He felt like Stark was making fun of him. He was a college student working part time at a wiener shop. A gala was hardly his scene. He tried to read the man's face, uncertain if he was allowed to say no. It didn't seem like he was asking.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark but-”

“I've made you an appointment with my tailor,” he pointed to a card left on the coffee table. “Don't be late. And I don't want to hear that you were difficult either.” He reached his arm along the back of the lounge to lay his hand against Peter's jaw. “You'll look beautiful and you'll have a nice time.”

Peter wondered if that was meant to sound reassuring when it only felt like an order. “Yes, sir.”

Stark smiled and Peter knew he'd said the right thing. “Great.” He patted Peter's cheek before he took his hand away.

Feeling that he'd been dismissed, Peter stood and walked back toward the window. Then he stopped. The whole gala thing had thrown him, but he was still worried about Harry.

“Mr. Stark. What about Harry Osborn, sir?”

“Don't worry about him, Peter.”

“But...” Peter took off his mask. He looked at in his hands. He needed to know, whatever it cost him. “What are you going to do to him?”

Stark looked at him with dark eyes. It made Peter's heart flutter to think that just his face could make him look like that. The man stood and put his hands on Peter's cheeks.

“Don't worry about your friend, my little spider,” he said gently.

Peter chewed his bottom lip. “But, Mr. Stark...”

“What have I told you about questioning me?” he asked, but he didn't sound angry. He was watching Peter's lips.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. It was strange, but he was already getting hard just from being so close and from the gentle but authoritative sound of the Kingpin's voice.

“I should punish you,” he said, breath ghosting against Peter's lips.

“Please, sir,” Peter breathed, feeling like a small, trapped animal.

Fingers brushed his hair back then twisted into the strands at the back of his head. “Maybe I'm not done with you yet tonight.”

Peter whined. He put his hands on Stark's chest looking for something stabilizing. It wasn't right how easily he caved to the man. He thought about the way he'd beaten Roger unrecognizable. It was sick, but he wanted Stark to hurt him, too. Or maybe it was just what he'd said about bloody knuckles. It was true. He got off on Stark's power, even when it went dark. When it went too far. He didn't even know if Roger was still alive.

Stark tilted his head, looking down at him. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me? Give me what I want?”

Voice small Peter said, “Yes, sir.”

Stark's knuckles trailed over his cheek. Peter's breath was unsteady. He closed his eyes as he remembered the blood and imagined it marking his skin.

Stark hummed thoughtfully. Then his hand twisted harder in his hair and pulled him along beside him. He manhandled Peter onto his knees.

Peter looked at the spot where he sat on the floor. It had been thoroughly cleaned, but this was absolutely the same spot where Roger had stood, blood pouring from his face.

“What is it that did it for you? Are you a little sadist? A masochist? Was it the fear and the helplessness of a man being held down and beaten? Maybe it's just the blood and the violence that does it for you? No wonder you enjoy fighting crime you pervert.”

“It's not- I don't know what it is...” Peter's cheeks burned at being called a pervert. Of course, he knew that he'd never gotten off on fighting criminals before. Well, a few times in the beginning. Before he ever put on the red suit and he was still high on his new found strength.

“I think you do. You're already fucking hard. All I had to do was remind you of what you stood by and witnessed.”

There was a pang of guilt and again he wondered if Roger was still breathing.

“I don't know, sir.” As Peter looked up at the Kingpin, his tailored suit, his perfect facial hair, his cocky expression, and he realized he knew exactly what it was. He just wasn't going to tell him that.

“Should I lay my fists into you until you figure it out?”

Peter shivered. His breath fell out of rhythm.

Stark chuckled. “Slut.” He ran his fingers through Peter's hair only to tug his head back. “You'd let me too, wouldn't you? Hm, you'd let me beat you bloody. Until you're hoarse from screaming and every part of you hurts. I'd never touch your pretty face, darling. But I could hurt you other places.” The tip of Stark's shoe tapped his chest. “I could kick your ribs in and make you shine my shoes with your tongue and you would say...”

Peter moaned. Eyes squeezed shut, lust over powering all over emotions, he said, “Thank you, Mr. Stark.” God, he was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me comments? I've felt like just the worst writer lately...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so inspired by everyone's nice comments that I wrote two more chapters and made a rough plan through chapter 16 . So here's the next chapter a bit early as thanks <3

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Stark grinned, teeth gleaming, eyes dark. He looked almost inhuman. “What a good little spider.” He released his harsh grip on Peter's hair. “I want to see you sucking my cock. Or choking on it, better yet,” he smirked.

Peter shivered. He wanted that. He wanted Stark's dick in his mouth and opening up his throat. He wanted the violence that Stark promised. On his knees, looking up at him, Stark appeared a god. Peter crawled forward the half step between them. He arched his back, head tilted to the side, lips a hair's breadth from the fabric of Stark's slacks.

“Yes, sir,” he said. His hands slid up the man's legs, reverent, to find the erection in his pants. Peter shivered, he couldn't help himself, the excitement was too much. And then he was pulling it out and finally holding it in his hands. His mouth watered.

“Well, darling? Are you just gonna look at it?” Stark looked down at him with amusement.

Doubt flashed through his mind making him pause. He wondered if he knew how to please a man who had likely known a hundred more practiced lovers than Peter was. Stark raised his chin with a hand.

“Stop thinking so much,” he advised. “Show me what a little slut you are.”

Peter opened his mouth and sucked the head of Stark's cock in between his lips. The grip on his chin tightened, then his hand slid around to the back of his head. Peter didn't need Tony's help to get it down his throat, though. That, he knew how to do. He took it down to the base, bobbing his head, stopping only when he lost control and gagged on it. He looked up as he swallowed him down, watched the powerful man in his designer suit toss his head back. Peter moaned to see him so enraptured. Pressure built inside him, but he ignored it in favor of finding out if he could make Tony Stark moan.

Turns out, it wasn't fucking his own throat on the man's cock that did it. It was when he stopped, looking up at him with wet eyes and spit on his chin that Stark moaned. Then his hand twisted in Peter's hair and pulled him up to his feet. He pulled him into a messy wet kiss as he backed them toward the couch.

He pushed Peter down under him as they landed against the cushions. The sound of wet lips smacking together and heavy breathing filled the air. Stark pulled at the fabric of Peter's suit, tugging it down off his shoulders, until Peter pulled the rest of it off and tossed it aside. His kisses were rough, harsh, as his lips traveled down Peter's neck. His hands squeezed Peter's ribs, holding him down. Peter's head fell back against the arm of the couch, moaning under the man's attentions. Then Stark was gone, leaving his bare skin cold.

Peter arched his back, looking upside down over the side of the couch to see him grabbing something from his desk drawer. Stark caught him looking and winked. He came back, condom and lube in hand and Peter was relieved one of them had a mind for safety, because he hadn't even thought of it.

Stark smirked at the look on his face. “As much as I'd like to let you swing through the city with my cum up your ass, let's do our first time right, shall we?” he said.

Peter felt himself blushing. Then, Stark was shoving his legs apart and positioning himself between them and all he knew was that he wanted it _in_ him.

Hand on his hip, Stark pushed in. He moved slowly letting Peter, stretch, adjust, _feel_ his cock filling him up. Peter moaned, hands hanging on to Stark's biceps, which were surprisingly solid under his suit jacket. He didn't realize he had closed his eyes until he heard Stark hum above him.

His looked down at him with dark, hungry eyes. “You really do make a pretty little cock hole.”

Peter whined, “Please, Mr. Stark.” He begged silently that the man wouldn't tease him too much this time. He want to cum so badly just after having his cock in his mouth.

Stark took Peter's hands from his biceps, pinning his wrists over his head and Peter was reminded of bloody knuckles. He rolled his hips back and thrust forward, drawing a high whine from Peter's lips. His strong thighs squeezed Stark's hips as he was fucked.

“Good boy. Good little spider,” Stark purred.

The man was strong and his stamina proved that it wasn't just for show. It was mind melting the way he pounded into him, breathing hard, but not slowing down. He kept all of Peter's considerable strength pinned down as he took him, making Peter moan and whine, unable to keep quiet. Stark paused only to force a rough kiss on his lips, twisting the scene with some sort of corrupt passion that drove them both higher. 

Peter longed to pull his wrists from the man's hold and touch himself, but with his mind locked in submission, he didn't dare. He used only the strength of an ordinary man just to feel the struggle as he was held captive. It only made Stark seem all the more powerful that Peter could escape him if he truly wanted, but he chose be trapped in his hold. Peter looked up at him to see his eyes dark, lips parting on a harsh breath with every thrust, and he whimpered. He was close without a hand on him.

Stark's lips curled. “Are you going to cum, spiderling? Does getting fucked on my cock feel too good? You can't help yourself can you?” He nipped the side of Peter's neck. “Tell me, darling.”

“It feels so good, Mr. Stark,” he breathed. “So good.”

“You're all mine and no one else's,” Stark said. “Mine to take. Mine to use.”

Peter whined again. “Please, Mr. Stark.”

“You can do it, little one. Let me see you cum on my cock.”

With every thrust making him whine, making his cock throb, he finally came. Sticky messy coated his bare skin. As his ass clenched, Stark groaned above him. His face softened then teeth clenched as he spilled.

Stark released his grip on Peter's wrists, instead using one hand to hold himself up and the other to hold Peter's face as he kissed him. Body still buzzing with pleasure, he sighed into the warm press of lips. A contented smile crossed his lips.

Peter didn't know at what point he fell asleep. It took him a moment to remember where he was when he woke up smelling the warm and somewhat sweet smell of Tony Stark's cologne. There was a blanket covering him, pulled up over his chin. It was soft and warm and threatened to lull him back to sleep, but he pushed it away. He shouldn't have been so careless as to fall asleep in the enemies layer. Not that he and Tony didn't have an agreement, but it wouldn't be terribly unexpected if he woke up on a lab table instead.

Sitting up, he saw Stark sitting in his desk chair, facing the windows. He seemed to be on the phone.

“I'm coming down there soon and I want the lab empty when I get there,” he spoke into the phone, then paused to listen. Peter couldn't hear the voice on the other line.

“It's none of your business,” he growled, voice denoting a threat.

“Soon. You're certain he's stable?”

“That's fine then. Tell Mr. Murdock he's free to leave.” He hung up. His chair turned and he looked at Peter. A smile crossed his face, then quickly disappeared to place of something indifferent.

“You're up,” he said simply.

“Take any embarrassing pictures of me while I slept?”

“Gotta have something to hold over you once your uncle is free don't I?” Stark smiled.

There was a pang in Peter's heart. What would happen then? Would he simply never see the man again? What would happen if they ended up fighting? Could Peter still fight him after everything? He'd gotten too close. He was in a vary dangerous position and not just because he was naked on the man's couch.

He stood and gathered up his suit, noticing that Stark must have cleaned him up when he passed out. He slipped the materiel on, feeling instantly safer. “I should get going,” he grumbled.

“Actually while you're here, there's something you might like to see.” Stark stood and came around the desk.

“Is this the part where you show me all the dead bodies in the basement?”

Stark chuckled. “We don't keep them in the basement, darling.”

Peter grabbed his mask and pulled it on over his messy hair and followed Stark into his private elevator. He pressed the button for the subbasement and the lift began its long descent.

The doors slid open. The lights over head flicked on as they walked together into the room. The light illuminated machines and computers, but Stark walked past them all to door directly across from the elevator. “It's me Jarvis, open up,” he said seemingly to the air.

“Yes, sir,” said a British voice overhead. An AI security system? Peter wondered.

The lock on the door beeped; the light turned green. It slid open. Stark walked ahead, but Peter darted past him when he saw what was in the room.

In the center of the room was a massive glass container filled with fluid like in some sort of Sci-fi flick. Floating inside the container was Harry. He was about ninety-percent lizard. Every part of his body from his chin down was green and scaly. Peter stood in front of him, staring as his friend slept in the goo tank.

“What- why- I don't-” Peter shuddered.

“Don't worry. I didn't have him brought here to hurt him. I have my people working on a cure,” Stark explained.

Peter looked at the man, watching with his hands in his pockets. “Really?”

“Yep.” Stark nodded his head. “Of course, I have my own reasons for doing so. This isn't charity, but you can rest assured that I intend no harm on your boy friend.”

“He's not my-” Peter sighed. “Don't tell me you're trying to replicate the serum. It's too dangerous.”

“No, I know that. I have other reasons.”

Stark's expression was daring him to press further, ask too many questions. Peter wanted to cross that line and find out just what happens when you piss off the Kingpin, but he wasn't that stupid.

Peter looked back through the glass. Other than his face, there was nothing indistinguishable about Harry in this lizard form from the way Gwen had looked under the serum's influence. Peter's arms sagged, remembering the weight of her dead body in his arms. He couldn't afford to owe Stark any more debts, but he couldn't let that happen to Harry. At least, trapped in Stark's lab, he couldn't go chasing after Spiderman anyway. Peter wondered if he still would, now that he knew that it was Peter. As long as Stark was really looking for a cure and he would let Harry go in the end, then everything would be fine.

“Thanks for showing me, Mr. Stark,” Peter said.

“Didn't want it keeping you at night. You need to get your beauty sleep for the gala.”

Peter suppressed a groan. Was he doing this just to torture him? The last thing Peter wanted to do was get dressed up and be paraded around as a billionaire's arm candy. He had more self respect than that. Was going to a gala really in his job description? It's not like the man had taken 'no' for an answer.

“Time to go back upstairs. You've got school in the morning, young man.”


	8. Chapter 8

Green scales flashed past his face. Screams echoed off the walls. The frightened screams of high-schoolers and the screeching of the lizard twisted together, diving up to the ceiling and ricocheting off the walls. When the sound reached Peter's ears it was the sound of Gwen's voice.

“Please! Peter!”

“Nonono, leave me alone!”

“Stop!”

Peter swung, fists hitting green flesh with superhuman strength, pounding and bruising. He backed the creature into the wall and kept going. “This isn't over until I say it is!” he said.

Then he was on the ground, holding Harry in his arms. In Gwen's voice, Harry said, “I just wanted to be special like you.”

And Peter laughed. Fists flying, he beat the lizard to a pulp. He couldn't contain his thirst for blood even as Gwen died laying on the floor nearby.

Harry stood on his hover-board. “He's a hypocrite. It was brutal,” he said. “You're no hero.”

Peter's heart pounded, head spun, as he opened his eyes. He blinked and the dream was already gone from his mind, but it left behind a residue of fear. It took him a while to pull himself out of bed after that, but he had places to be.

Peter examined the date and address on the appointment card one more time. Yep, he was in the right place. He just didn't want to go inside. It wasn't the most inviting of places with its windows covered and no indication that it was a business at all. Maybe that was the point: discretion. No one would know who was inside or why they were there. If the guy worked for Tony Stark he might have been more than a tailor. If he even was a tailor. Stark could have been setting him up or something. Not that he'd given him a solid reason not to trust him yet. He just had a hunch that there was more to the story.

He went up to the door, then he stopped again. Should he knock? You don't knock at business... but the place looked like it was just a townhouse... The door swung open.

“Well come in then!” shouted an exasperated looking older man. His hair was so thing you could hardly call it hair and his skinny fingers looked like they shouldn't be able to hold a tooth pick let alone the front door.

Peter cleared his throat. “Right... thank you,” he said. He walked slowly past the man as if stirring up the air might cause him to blow over.

The man closed the door and Peter turned to offer his hand. “I'm Peter Parker. Mr. Stark said he sent up an appointment for me.”

The man's hand was slightly cold as he shook Peter's. “Yes, Mr. Parker. Good to meet you. So you need a suit?” He eyed Peter up and down.

Peter shuffled his feet. “Yes, sir.”

“Come stand in front of the mirror and let's get a good look at you.” He lead the way from the sparsely decorated foyer into the next room.

The wall had wooden clothes racks set into them and all manor of fancy clothes hung down from them. At the center of the room was a pedestal surrounded on three sides by a ceiling high mirror. Feeling self conscious, Peter stepped onto the pedestal.

The man circled around him a few times. He twisted and turned his head, seemingly to get a look at him from every possible angle. Peter had to concentrate on being still and not fidgeting too much, but he'd never been examined in such a way before. Then finally, the man stopped.

“Alright, clothes off. I'll need to get your measurements,” he declared.

“With my clothes off?”

The man hummed and looked at him again with exasperation. “You're not wearing that to gala. Not on Tony Stark's arm. No no.”

“But-”

“Clothes off, I'll grab the tape.”

Peter was pretty sure the man could have gotten his measurements without him taking his clothes off, but Stark had made it clear that he was not to be difficult for the tailor. So, he sighed, and then he stripped down to his underwear. Pouting, he let the man take his measurements. He jotted down a few numbers then he straightened up and looked him over again.

“Yes, I think Mr. Stark is exactly right,” he mused, putting a finger to his chin.

“Right about what?” Peter asked. He crossed his arms over his chest.

The man walked away and came back with a simple white button up shit. “Let's try this on to start.”

He slipped the shirt up Peter's arms then walked around to his front to do the buttons. Peter grit his teeth at the uncomfortable ordeal. The man looked at him thoughtfully only to run off again and return with a pair of white slacks. Peter took them from him and pulled them on before he could think about trying to do it himself. Looking in the mirror, Peter felt like he should be going to a baptism and not a gala. But the man went away again and came back to wrap him in a cherry red vest. Both the buttons and stitching were gold. He added a red tie, then finished the look with a white jacket.

Peter looked in the mirror at the gold embroidery trailing from his shoulder down his chest on the left side. There were some bits of red popping out here and there, but it was all very delicate and detailed.

“What do you think?” the man asked.

The suit was beautiful. The most beautiful thing he'd ever worn. And it must have been expensive. Which is exactly why he wanted to put up a fuss and refuse to ever put it on again, but he was told not to be difficult. He certainly looked as beautiful as promised and in Stark's signature red and gold he looked like he was being claimed. He would walk into the room and everyone would know who he was there with, without Stark even having to arrive. Peter bit his lip.

“I'll take it you're not use to the finer things,” the man wrinkled his nose. “I can assure you those uh... Sketchers... you arrived in will also be replaced.”

Peter scowled into the mirror. “Thanks,” he deadpanned.

“Once I've taken it in here and there, it will fit perfectly. Mr. Stark is going to love it.”

Peter examined himself from head to toe. It was true. He looked like a prince or a work of art or a billionaire's kept pet. “Yes, I think he will,” Peter agreed, sadly. He felt like he'd veered so far off the track of being a super hero he wasn't sure if he could recover. It was hard to believe he was trying on a suit that was probably worth his weight in gold when he should be out saving the city.

Frustrated with himself, Peter kicked it into overdrive. He spent the rest of the week swinging around, besting every bad guy he could find until late into the night. By the time the weekend came, along with the night of gala, Peter was exhausted.

He was up early the morning of the gala. He gave May a quick kiss on the cheek and an excuse about pulling an extra shift at work before running out the door. It was still early morning when he arrived at the tailor's, but still the man greeted him at the door with a half-hearted smile. He ushered Peter into the room and in front of the mirror.

“I didn't have a lot of time to work, but I know Mr. Stark expects perfection. So I have worked tirelessly to ensure exactly that,” he said haughtily, puffing out his chest.

He helped Peter dress again into the suit. It was just as beautiful as the first time. Peter's breath caught in his throat as he looked at himself in the mirror. The man had tailored the suit to look like a second skin. It fit almost too snug in places that made Peter blush, but he could still move around in it so he couldn't complain. No doubt Mr. Stark had requested that the material hug his ass like that. It was incredible how pretty he looked. He hadn't known that his body could look like that or that his eyes had little flecks of gold in them like that.

“What do you think?” the man asked, all wide smile and hands clasped.

“It's amazing.”

“It suits you,” the man sighed. “Mr. Stark is an artist.”

“You say that like he designed it.”

The man nodded. “Oh yes. He came and stood over my shoulder, dictating. Making me draw and begin again and again, but if this is the result, I'd say it was well worth the way my fingers locked up in the end.”

“He... When?” Forehead scrunched, Peter thought. Stark had only asked him to the gala a few days ago and the suit had been finished except for the tailoring before he ever saw it. Stark must have come down a month or so before then. Peter had only been working for the Kingpin for about three weeks. That meant what? That the day Murdock found him leaving the jail house that Tony Stark had run down his tailor to design a suit for him? Before then even? Peter clenched his teeth. He felt like he'd been played.

The tailor balked, realized he'd something he shouldn't. He quickly scurried away saying, “Allow me to get your shoes, sir.”

He'd been planning on well... getting him into bed, so to speak, from the beginning. He must have. Why else would he have planned to parade him around at a gala? Stark must have known the odds of Peter saying no had been slim, but did he believe that because of the situation Peter was in or because Stark thought himself just that damn sexy?

Peter fumed, pouting through the rest of the fitting, even as the tailor silently helped him into his shoes. That stupid, sexy, criminal, bastard. But then it got even worse.

There was a knock at the door. Peter jumped, not expecting to be interrupted, but the tailor wasn't fazed as he went to open it. In walked a tall, thin woman, in too tall shoes, carrying a large black case. Peter's first thought was 'weapons', but when the man who followed her came in carrying a hair dryer, Peter knew that it was much worse.

It took all day. The still guilty looking tailor managed to hand feed Peter bits of food as the other two worked on him. Which was good because the moment Peter started to get hangry he grumbled something about throwing that over sized makeup case out of the window. His makeup artist informed him that the contents of that case were worth as much as a new car and he calmed down as he was fed a cinnamon bagel by the flustered tailor.

He had no idea it could take so long to do a man's hair, yet there he was, legs cramping up from sitting still for too long. ADHD made his head want to explode, but the kindhearted makeup lady turned on the radio and started chatting with him about school and the situation became livable. It was a team effort, but with an hour to spare, Peter was ready for the gala. The hair stylist spun him around in his chair to look in the mirror and there he was. A person Peter did not recognize.

Well okay, he was there underneath, but they'd made him like at least six-hundred times more beautiful and he seriously needed to stop comparing himself to fairy tale princes. His face looked the same, but his skin tone was more even. Somehow she had shaded his features to make his bone structure stick out a little more. The dark circles and bags around his eyes were gone. His hair was perfect and where Peter often flattened down his curls so he didn't have to do anything with them, the stylist had made them look soft and dynamic. The color looked different too and when he turned his head, he saw the light catch the subtle gold sparkles in it.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” Peter asked the room and they all laughed. “Sorry for giving you guys a hard time. I look great.”

“It's no problem at all, sweetie,” said the makeup lady, whose name was lost to all of Peter's pouting earlier.

“None at all,” agreed the stylist who smiled at him in the mirror.

The tailor pulled Peter up from his seat and he almost fell as blood rushed into his legs. “Now, off to the ball with you.”

“Hey, what about my other clothes? The ones I came in?” Peter asked as he was shoved out the door.

“I'll be sure to burn them for you,” he said and he shooed Peter outside.

Peter rolled his eyes. He hoped he was joking, he could not afford to buy clothes on his salary. Then he sighed as he spotted the entourage waiting for him on the sidewalk.

“Mr. Parker,” Murdock smirked. “Don't you look like a princess. Mr. Stark is such a generous man to turn you into such a Cinderella story.”

Unfazed by the villain's cruel tone, Peter smirked back. “Mr. Murdock, I see you've been demoted to babysitter.”

“What does that make you?” he quipped.

“Precious cargo,” Peter replied. He could sense the hostility rolling off the attorney as he sauntered past. One of the two armed guards standing on either side of Murdock opened the door for him and Peter climbed into the backseat.


	9. Chapter 9

If Peter was being honest with himself, it felt good. The clothes, the makeup, the celebrity treatment. He could get used to being Stark's pet. A realization which sickened him, but the blood chilling effect wore off as the car parked next to a limo in the Stark Tower garage.

Peter was let out of the car and then directed to the limo. He pouted once more at the thought of having to sit down again, but he imagined he was going to be spending the rest of the night on his feet so he might as well tough it out for the time being. The door was opened for him and he slipped inside. His heart skipped a beat to see Tony waiting there for him. The man looked like he had prepared something cocky to say, but it died on his lips as he saw Peter.

The smile on his face fell and the man breathed a near desperate as Peter climbed inside the vehicle, “Wow.”

Peter sat quietly as he was once more examined. The gold on his suit reflected in Stark's eyes.

“Wow,” he said again. “Peter...”

The way he said his name almost reverently sent a pleasant shiver up Peter's spine. “Wow?” he asked. Peter was torn between the power he felt at rendering a man like the Kingpin speechless and the desperate look in the man's eye that called for his submission. He couldn't decide which urge to satisfy.

“You're stunning,” Stark said.

Not that he looked stunning but that he _was_ stunning. Like Peter made the suit look pretty and not the other way around. But Peter was supposed to be mad at him. Because Stark was presumptuous. He had assumed that Peter would sleep with him long before the thought had crossed his mind. So no, he didn't submit. If only to prove to himself that he wasn't so easy.

“Worth the price you paid?” Peter's pink lips curled up in a smirk.

Stark was still so lost in the sight of him that he didn't seem to care. He moved to close the gap between them, hand on his neck pulling Peter in for a kiss, but he pulled away.

“Don't you'll smudge my makeup!” He complained, turning his body away and towards the door.

“Smudge your-” Stark blinked at him, recovering from his daze. He pounced, closing the gap once again and pinning Peter against the door, pulling him up against the seat so that the length of him was under Stark's own body. “If I want to shred that pretty suit you're wearing right off your tight little body, I will,” he growled.

Peter moaned. He turned his head away from the door to look into the heat of Stark's eyes.

“I'll drag you into that party makeup smeared, suit tattered, and no one, not even you would stop me. Would you, slut?” he snarled and there was challenge in his eyes.

Despite that fact that to do such a thing would definitely be going to far and Peter almost certainly would have fled the scene in that scenario, he genuinely believed that Stark could do it if he really wanted to. Turn Peter into a wrecked mess and march him into that gala looking like a whore he pulled right off the street. He wouldn't do it, he was too vain, but he _could_.

Barely touching his face, Stark's eyes twinkled as he gave Peter a gentle peck on his lips. Then he sat upright in his seat. He pressed the button to the com on the roof and told the driver to go.

Peter sat up and fixed his jacket. He touched the curls at the back of his head wondering if they'd been ruined against the door. Stark put a hand on his thigh, all but in his crotch.

“Don't fuss, dear,” he said. “You look lovely.”

Peter blushed and stared straight ahead. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“Remember I expect good behavior from you tonight. Don't make me look bad,” he smirked at Peter. “But of course you're always a good little spider.” He squeezed Peter's thigh.

“Of course,” Peter said a bit breathlessly.

Stark only smiled to himself, saying nothing else. He kept his hand on Peter, but they didn't talk the rest of the drive. Peter took the opportunity that Stark was ignoring him to look at the man and that's when he realized that their suits essentially matched.

Stark's suit was the same red as Peter's vest with visible gold thread work. The shirt underneath was white, no tie, unbuttoned a bit to show off a bit a skin. It wasn't the most formal look, but he still looked like a million bucks. Next to him though, Peter would dazzle. Stark looked sexy and rich, but Peter was a sparkling gold center piece. He would draw the eye as much as any woman in any designer gown. Peter realized that was exactly the idea. The more eye-catching the arm candy, the better status in the room. He wasn't sure he was prepared for how much attention he was about to get.

They arrived to the gala to a sea of flashing lights. Stark got out of the car first and helped Peter out. Excited chatter followed them as reporters tried to ask Peter questions about his name, age, how he and Stark met, and everything in between. The clamor only died down slightly as they entered the building. Peter didn't realize how tightly he was clinging to Stark's arm until he was being introduced to someone a moment later as their eyes flicked from Peter's face, to his chest, to where their arms where linked.

Peter was pleased to realize that no one really wanted to talk much to him. Not with Tony Stark standing at his side. They chatted with Stark while they eyed Peter like a cut of meat. It was flattering at first and nice that it left him feeling unpressured to make conversation that was above his pay grade. Then, it started to feel plain old objectifying. Peter found himself pouting as they worked the room.

Eventually, Stark lead him away from the center of the room and to a corner closer to the bar. He nudged Peter's side.

“At least try to look like you're having fun. You look like I forced you here,” the man commented.

“Gee, maybe because you did,” Peter grumbled.

Stark snorted. He leaned into Peter's side and spoke softly into his ear. “You can fool yourself, darling, but you can't fool me.” He straightened up, smiling at a woman across the room. “I'll get some drinks.”

“I don't drink. Alcohol doesn't affect me. Well, not much anyway,” he said, still pouting.

“Fine. I'll have a drink.” Stark walked away.

Peter sighed, grateful for the moment to think. Between the way his heart fluttered when Stark came to close and the way it pounded with anxiety when anyone looked at him too closely, he was barely holding on. Something about being there made him feel guilty. He felt like he was partying with a room full of criminals. Which, if they were friends with Tony Stark, was probably exactly what they were. Not that this was Stark's party, but every seemed pretty friendly with the guy. Sometimes it slipped Peter's mind that Stark's criminal activities weren't public knowledge. He should have been working to expose him not working his way into his bed.

Disgusted with himself, Peter turned his eyes away from Stark. Maybe he should have had a drink after all. Then he noticed someone breaking away from the crowd.

She was slender and dark skinned. Her white hair contrasted nicely with the dark tone. There was something in her eyes that reminded Peter of a cat stalking prey as she strut her way across the floor to meet him.

“All alone, kitten?” her purred, voice sickly sweet.

Something about her was familiar, but Peter couldn't put his finger on it. “Not exactly,” he said and he glanced at Stark over by the bar, chatting with someone who's face Peter couldn't see. As the woman turned her head, Peter realized who she was. “Felicia? You used to play with Gwen and MJ... I haven't seen you in a long time.”

She smiled. “And now everyone knows my name.” She laughed in a way that was forced and entirely for show. “Dance with me,” she said. She took Peter's arm and lead him toward the center of the floor where everyone was starting to dance.

Peter looked self-consciously down as his feet, hoping he was moving the right way. He glanced over his shoulder at Stark, wondering what the man thought about this, but he didn't seem to be paying Peter any attention. He turned his gaze back to Felicia.

“So, you have your own band now, 'The Black Cats'?”

“That's right,” she winked. “Turns out I was never meant to be a simple 'Mary Jane'.” She pouted her lips. “I was so sorry to hear what happened to poor Gwenie. Out of all of them, I felt that Gwen and I were very close.”

Peter rolled his eyes. The entire band had hated Felicia. Sure, they were friends at first, but the way she stole the spotlight and pushed everyone around was the reason they sent her packing. She had been nothing but a diva that the other girls came to hate until they finally put their feet down.

“I'm sure Gwen would be happy to hear it,” Peter said politely.

“You're doing well for yourself, kitten.” Felicia stroked a finger over his cheek. “I'm delighted to see you here.”

“I didn't know you'd even noticed me before.” In fact Peter was pretty sure that before this moment, he and Felicia had never made eye contact.

“Well, Peter,” she pulled herself in close, the length of her body pressed against his. “You've given me a reason to notice.” Her lips brushed against his ear and he shivered. Turning her face to look him in the eye, lips brushing against his cheek. “How would you like to come home with me tonight?” she asked.

Peter found himself leaning away from her hold. He wasn't sure what Stark's reaction would be to Peter sleeping with someone else, but he'd seemed mighty jealous of Harry. He couldn't risk their arrangement for anything. Not even if he wanted to. Peter carefully peeled Felicia's hand from his shoulders and took a step back.

“Sorry, Felicia. I'm with someone else tonight.”

Her eyes flashed in fury before softening again. “That's too bad,” she purred. “Perhaps some other time.” She took a few steps back before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Peter tried to spot her white hair, but she was lost in seconds. He made his way back to the spot where Stark had left him.

“You having fun without me?” Stark asked between sips of his drink.

“Am I not allowed?”

“I just didn't realize you have other wealthy friends. Thought I was your only sugar daddy,” he said with a smile and a wink.

Peter glanced back at the crowd again. “Looks like Felicia Hardy is offering you some competition,” he teased. When he looked back at Stark, the smile was gone from his face. “Do you know her?”

“Not well,” Stark took another sip of his drink. Then he smiled again. “Would you like to dance with me, Pete?” He handed his glass to a waiter carrying a tray. Taking Peter's hand he lead him back to the floor.

It was easier with Stark leading the dance, but Peter still felt awkward and unpracticed as they glided around the room, following the crowd in circles. He had almost forgotten about what Stark's hands did him. He only needed to touch him and he felt needy. Then Stark's hand slid up from his arm to his neck. He looked at him for a moment before pulling him into a kiss. Peter moaned, blushing as he remembered they weren't alone. Then he remembered what Stark said before, that he could do anything he wanted and no one would stop him. Peter's mouth watered.

Stark looked at him with such a dark possessive look. Peter could feel that familiar warmth and pressure building low in his groin. He found himself pressing closer until they were chest to chest. Without a word, Stark lead them away from the crowd.

He opened a door and pulled Peter through, into the hallway. His back hit the wall and he moaned again as Stark pressed a deep punishing kiss to his lip. Hands squeezed his hips. Peter looped his arms around Stark's neck and his legs around his waist, holding his body against his own. A hand pulled his hair, head tilting to the side, and then the man was biting, sucking on the side of his neck. Peter moaned, struggling to catch his breath. His fingers dug into Stark's shoulders.

Eyes squeezed shut from the pain of each rough press of teeth into his skin, Peter mewled, “ _Mr. Stark_.”

The teeth released his skin and dark eyes looked into his own. “Do you want me, little spider?”

Peter whimpered. _No, it's wrong_. “Please, Mr. Stark.”

“Do you? Do you want me?”

Stark looked at him so intently. He wasn't going to go any further unless Peter admitted it. That wasn't even something he'd admitted to himself yet, let alone to say it out loud. But he was so hard and he was pressed so tightly again him and the scent of his cologne made the air too thick. Hiding his face in the man's shoulder so he didn't have to see his cocky smirk, Peter said it, “Yes, please, Mr. Stark. I want you.”


	10. Chapter 10

Before Peter knew it, he was in the back of Stark's limo again. His hands were under Peter's clothes, fancy blazer tossed onto the floor. The gold dust from Peter's hair was all over the both of them since Stark couldn't keep his hands off of Peter's curls. He was pretty sure he looked more like an expensive train wreck than a prince at this point. Though, sitting on Stark's lap, thighs spread wide around him, he didn't care in the least what he looked like.

Stark's hands unbuttoned his vest his slid it over his shoulders. Feeling the red fabric drop away from his shoulders, he looked at Stark's own suit, realizing that he'd never actually seen the man naked. He worked open the buttons on his jackets, then immediately went to work on his shirt. The man didn't stop him, content to keep sucking marks into his collar bone while Peter bit his lip in concentration, trying to complete his mission. He lost his breath as he uncovered the body beneath the fabric.

“That what you wanted to see, sweetheart?” Stark smirked.

Peter had expected the hard muscle he found, but his eyes were locked onto the glowing blue of the contraption set into his sternum. He traced his fingers over the circle of metal. “What is that?” he asked.

“That is... what happens when someone tries to kill Tony Stark. I upgrade.” His hand pet Peter's curls again.

“It's so pretty, Mr. Stark,” he said, still breathless with awe.

Fingers tightening in Peter's hair, Stark pulled him into a kiss. His hands braced against the man's chest on either side of the glowing device. Then his hands slid up and around Stark's neck as he pulled himself closer. He ground his hips down against Stark's as strong hands squeezed his ass. Then those hands tugged at the waist of his pants. Peter shifted to let Stark pull them off, kicking off his shoes. He undid the buttons of his own shirt and let it join the mess on the floor.

Stark palmed him through his briefs, his left hand wrapped around Peter's throat. “Do you like being my pretty little pet?”

Peter whined. His hands slid up Stark's pecs to squeeze his strong shoulders. He rolled his hips, pushing himself into Stark's hand. He let the edge of his mouth curl up into a smirk. “Are you gonna fuck me, or are you all talk this time?”

The hand on his throat tightened. Stark's mouth curled up in a smirk of his own. “Think you can goad me into it, slut? You're _mine_.” He pushed Peter's briefs off until he was entirely bare to the back of the limo.

Grinning and confident as always, Stark reached beside himself and lifted up the seat. Peter was surprised to find there was a compartment under the cushion. The space was neatly organized, but otherwise crammed full of guns, knives, a taser, and tucked to one side, a bottle of lube and a box of condoms.

“Turn around, little spider,” Stark ordered. Peter carefully maneuvered himself to face away from the Kingpin. The hand on his throat felt twice as threatening.

Stark pushed the bottle of lube into his hand. “You wanna get fucked? Show me you want it.”

The hand on his neck slipped away. Peter balanced himself so he could lean forward while reaching back between his legs. He slipped a slick finger inside himself. He pushed it deep, twisted it around, pushed another finger in beside it. Stark's hands held his waist as he watched. Though, Peter was so caught up on fucking himself on his fingers that he notice when a hand left him until his spider-sense lit up and he nearly leaped to the opposite side of the limo. Hard metal pressed against his temple. He had forgotten about the stash of guns laying open beside them.

“Keep going,” Stark's voice rumbled low and quiet.

Peter moaned as the muzzle of the gun trailed down his cheek. He moved his frozen hand only to end up rocking his hips, fucking himself on his hand.

Stark wrapped his hand around his throat and pulled Peter's back to his chest. Without any fabric between them, he could feel the metal device pressing in between his shoulder blades. The gun traced the line of his jaw, then pressed up underneath his chin.

“Look at you,” Stark said. “You're so hard you're leaking. You're so wet I can feel it soaking into my pants. Slutty, little spider.”

Arm pinned behind him, Peter reached down to find Stark's erection, rubbing him through his pants. Stark pushed the gun up harder under his chin.

“You want something, sweetheart?”

Peter whined. “Put it in me, Mr. Stark.”

Stark chuckled. “My cock or the gun?”

Peter shivered, moaning. His toes curled against the seat. “Please, Mr. Stark.”

The gun left his chin to press against his panting lips. “Give it a kiss and I'll give you what you want.”

Peter pressed his lips against the metal. He let his tongue slip out to taste it. The flavor of the merciless device made him throb. He felt for the zipper of Stark's pants with his fingers and pulled it down, trying to get to his cock. Then Stark tossed the gun aside and threw him down against the seat beside him. He hovered over him, dark eyes, strong shoulders, something aggressive written on his face.

All too quickly, he was tearing open a condom, shoving it on with practiced ease, and forcing his way into Peter's slick hole. Head falling back against the seat, he moaned as Stark fucked him.

“That's it fucking slut,” he groaned. One hand gripped his hip, the other holding the back of the seat.

Peter looked up at the smooth expanse of skin, the hardened muscle underneath, and the device set into it. His hand slid up Stark's chest to hold on to his shoulder. Stark thrust into him and he reached a hand up to brace himself against the door.

“Fuck, Mr. Stark,” he moaned, overwhelmed by the sweet friction inside of him, rubbing against that sensitive spot. The pressure built quickly. Peter's thighs squeezed Stark's hips. He keened as he grew closer to the edge of orgasm.

“This what you wanted, huh?” Stark teased. “My cock so deep in your ass you see stars? Does it feel good to be my fuck toy?”

Peter whined. He bit his lip. He wanted to scream out loud how good it felt, pinned down beneath the most powerful man in New York, taking his cock, used like a toy, like a fleshlight. It felt more than good. It was incredible and it was addictive.

“You're squeezing my dick, do you know that? Your thigh little ass doesn't want to let it go. Feels too good doesn't it? Being full of me.”

Peter turned his head away. He was going to cum any second now with the way Stark fucked him just right. His fingers dug into the man's shoulders.

“Can you feel that?” Stark kept talking. “You belong to me. Inside and out. My most precious property.”

A gasp escaped Peter's parted lips turning to a moan as he came. His nails bit into Tony's skin and his legs wrapped tight around his waist, using his strength to keep him buried deep. He opened his eyes to see Stark's cheeks flushed red, cocky facade shattered as he stared down at him in awe. The man caught him in a kiss that felt to Peter like an overload of passion. He kissed him until Peter's gentle whining grew louder, every movement between their bodies overstimulating his senses.

Peter untangled the man from his legs and pushed himself up, creating some distance between them. He hoped he look on his face didn't convey the horror he felt. That was different. A different kind of a kiss. A different kind of orgasm.

The limousine pulled to a stop. Realizing the state he was in and that one of Stark's guards would likely be waiting to open the door for them, Peter grabbed his clothes from the floor. He was half way through buttoning up his shirt when the door opened. Peter looked up from red clad legs to the tinted sunglasses perched on Murdock's face.

“Haven't I told you to knock, Murdock?” Stark said, though he sounded amused more than anything. He was reclined very casually against the seat as if he didn't care in the least that his shirt was unbuttoned and his pants were unzipped, though he had tucked himself away.

“My apologies, Mr. Stark,” Murdock said with a smirk. “I assume the evening went well?”

Peter glowered as he climbed out of the car, leaving only the vest and jacket along with his tie on the floor. “Too bad you weren't invited,” he said. It was obvious that Murdock had never liked him, but he was hinting at a rivalry that Peter hadn't expected.

“It's a shame, Mr. Parker,” he replied, still smirking.

Peter didn't like the way the man said his name. There was a threat in there somewhere and it made his spider-sense flare up as sure as if he were poised to throw a punch. If he'd thought making a deal with Tony Stark was playing with fire, making an enemy out of Matt Murdock was the gasoline on top.

Stark climbed out of the limo to stand beside him. He gave Murdock a look that caused him to turn and walk away without another word.

“He's not really blind is he?” Peter asked.

“Peter that's rude,” Stark said chuckling. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I hope you had a good night, darling. I'll have my boys take you home. I'll call you.” He winked.

Tony and two of his guards walked away to join Murdock, who waited by the elevator. Peter had almost forgotten that they were playing a different game tonight. He was playing the pampered boy toy and not the captive superhero. Still, it was a surprise to be handled with respect and care as he was lead to yet another black car to be taken home.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> 1- This chapter is hella long, grab some popcorn  
> 2- Gore  
> 3- Murder  
> 4- Gore and murder being referenced during sexy times  
> 5- Tony just straight up doesn't care about condoms this time

Peter spent the next two days not thinking about what had happened at the gala as much as he possibly could. It was a losing battle. His body wanted to remember every touch and he shivered to remember Stark's hands on him. How vulnerable he'd felt, how _claimed_. A part of him was ready to fling morals to the wind and accept who he was becoming, but it was a terrifying thought. He had a responsibility to the people of New York. They looked up to him and he couldn't risk becoming self-indulgent. He couldn't risk becoming someone who would turn a blind eye to the Kingpin's criminal underground. But wasn't that exactly what he was doing? Would things go back to the way they were once this was all over? It was entirely possible that Stark had a long term plan to keep Peter from ever slipping away from him. Was that what he meant when he said that Peter belonged to him? His property.

The memory of those words had his cock twitching in his suit as he swung across the city, back to Stark tower.

Something was different. Stark was less flirty, less eager to get a step too close, less suggestive in the way he looked at Peter. It actually made him uncomfortable. He should have been happy. Keeping his distance from Stark was a good thing. Still, it bothered him.

Stark sent him out to do his work with a disinterested sweep of his hand. Peter left the building in a frustrated huff.

Things were set to play out a little differently this time. Stark had sent his men in several days early to infiltrate a group of human traffickers. Apparently, for all his crime, Stark did not trade in flesh and Peter was grateful to hear it.

With his men already in place, Spiderman just needed to swoop in and save the day. Stark's men would give him cover while he rescued the victims. All he had to do was ignore the sound of bodies dropping in the next room.

Peter went to the address he was given and scoped the place out. The building was crawling with men with big guns. They were the real scary kind, too. The type that joked about their victims and terrorized them at every opportunity. Peter wasn't surprised that it was the sound of quiet sobbing that lead him to the room where the victims were being kept.

There was only one guard actually in the room, keeping watch. The rest were scattered throughout the rest of the building, watching doors or playing cards. Peter counted twelve heads huddled together on the floor. The victims ranged in approximate age of thirteen to twenty-one. Peter nearly threw up in his mask. Yeah, ignoring the sound of dropping bodies would be easy this time around. He never thought that there was any circumstance that would make him feel this way, but this was it. This was where he drew the line between criminals and monsters. He listened to the sound of crying just below him and he waited for the signal.

Gunfire.

Spiderman launched a web through the vent and attached the guard to the wall beside the door. He dropped down and silenced him with a hard elbow to the head. Rougher than he usually played, but he had to get his aggression out somewhere. Then he poked his head out the door.

They had just enough space, to slip out the door and into the hallway without being seen if every one crouched low. After calming the frightened _children_ with a few gentle words, he told them all the plan. In rows of two, they slipped out the door as Spiderman watched over them from the ceiling. He crawled to the door and held it open, watching in case the bastards tried to escape, opening up the potential for someone innocent to get hurt, but no one came outside. The sound of sirens sent Spiderman crawling back into the building, uninterested in being arrested for saving lives.

As he dropped to the floor, the door to the hallway opened. A man, he must have been one of Stark's, stepped into the hall.

“I got them out, don't worry. Everyone's safe,” Peter explained. This wasn't one of his usual teammates. For a moment he'd thought the guy had freckles, and then he realized he was looking at flecks of blood.

The man chuckled. “Good on you.” Then he raised his gun. “Looks like I've got myself an opportunity for a promotion. Two birds,” he laughed. Then he fired.

Spiderman dodged with ease, but the rest of the crew was running their way. The tight space was difficult to maneuver while dodging bullets, especially once two more men joined the fray.

A bullet grazed his side, tearing his suit. “Stop!” Peter shouted at the absolute fools on the ground. “I'm working with the Kingpin on this one. It was a team effort.”

“Yeah right,” one of them grunted.

He was just about to hit the back door successfully, when for the first time in his experience, the bad guys learned how to coordinate their shots. A bullet landed in the flesh of his arm, nicking bone. With a scream, Peter pulled his arm into toward his chest. His spider-sense failed as his vision flashed red and a second shot caught him in the opposite shoulder. He fell from the ceiling and scrambled to get up, but they were on him. The butt of a gun hit the side of his face, cracking his jaw, before finding the back of his head on the second attempt. Spiderman blacked out.

Peter woke to a familiar smell. The mechanical fragrance that was uniquely 'elevator'. He groaned as the grogginess refused to fade and his blurry vision made him dizzy.

“Oh shit. He's waking up!” Someone to his left hissed.

Peter groaned again at the loud sound. He squirmed and felt the hands holding him up by either of his arms. These guys were pretty strong to carry his dead-weight like that. But then again Peter wasn't all that big, despite his strength.

“Hey, guys. You really don't wanna do this,” he said, voice garbled. “Really. You're gonna piss him off.” It was kind of cruel actually, knowing what a prize they must have thought was coming to them. Then again, maybe Stark would play along. Let them think they did a good job. Give them a pat on the back and send them on their way, but odds were, these thugs were expecting blood.

“Yeah, yeah. You're working with the Kingpin. Shut up,” the guy on his right said.

“What if he really is-” said the guy on his left.

“You shut up, too.”

“Ain't no way,” said someone behind them. “Kingpin wants this guy's head on a plate.”

“So why don't we just shoot while he's still all...”

“You know Mr. Stark don't work like that. Man's a sadist. He'll want to do it himself.”

Peter shivered at that. What would Stark had done to him if they'd caught him only a few months earlier? He tried not to picture it, but he almost wanted to. He wanted to know what being Stark's prey felt like.

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. They dragged Peter down the hall. “Last chance boys...” he cautioned. They opened the door to Stark's office and pulled him inside.

“Mr. Stark!” one of them called. “Sorry for barging in, sir, but we've got a present for ya.”

Peter looked up and saw him sitting at his desk, hands folded under his chin as he talked to Murdock. He looked at the group with his eyebrow quirked up. His lips twitched in amusement.

“I assume you finished the job I sent you to do?” Stark asked.

The man flinched. “Yes sir...” he said, clearly expecting praise.

“Exactly as I asked you to?”

“We uh...” He looked at his buddies. “We took care of them. Spiderman here got the kids out.”

“And then?”

Peter felt cold. Stark was way too calm. Way too amused. The tension building in the room was not unlike the feeling of a holding a scream in your chest, dying to release it into the air.

“We... We-we,” he stuttered, trying to find the right words.

“Did you clean up your mess or not?” That eyebrow arched higher, now displaying irritation rather than amusement.

“We covered our tracks. Nothing was left behind and no one saw anything.” He swallowed. The other men shifted on the spot.

“Maybe you can't keep your hands off of other people's property, but at least you can do something right.”

Peter saw the two men in his line of sight share a look.

“Sir?” the one on the right questioned.

Stark's arm shot up, Peter barely saw the metal in his hand before he heard the shot. Then rapidly, the three men dropped to the floor. Peter fell onto his hands and knees where he found himself staring into the dead eyes of the man to his right as blood poured from the back of his shattered skull. He was frozen.

There was the sound of shoes tapping on the floor. Stark stopped in front of him. He crouched down and cupped Peter's face in his hands, pulling him up to his knees. “Are you alright?” He was so gentle. There was something warm in his chocolate eyes.

Peter's heart thundered in his chest. “Y-yeah. I... I'm fine,” he stuttered.

Stark stared into the lenses of his mask. “Murdock. You know what to do,” he ordered.

The lawyer walked towards them, headed for the door. He made a sound of distaste as he passed. “As you wish,” he said to the Kingpin.

Stark's lips quirked. “He hates getting blood on his shoes.”

Peter was about to tell him that that sound likely had more to do with him that the blood, but he realized the puddles that were forming on the floor were spreading in their direction. He wasn't sure he would love getting blood on his shoes either. Let alone the rest of his suit.

Stark's hand touched Peter's arm, just below the tear in his suit. “They shot you?”

Peter shrugged. “No biggie. It's nothing but a nasty bruise now.”

Stark hummed his interest, pressing his thumb to the skin below the tear, examining where there had once been a hole in Peter's flesh. Peter looked at his arm, there was a mark there like a healing scar, but he knew it would be completely gone in a few days. He gasped as pain shot up from the curious touch on his arm. He felt blood seeping into the knees of his suit.

“Amazing,” Stark mused.

He pulled the mask from Peter's head, pausing a second to look at him before pressing their lips together. If Peter were a fool, he'd say it almost felt romantic.

Stark stopped, holding Peter close, looking into his eyes. “I killed those men for you, Peter.”

Peter swallowed. He tried to find the part of him that was good and kind, but wherever it was inside of him, it was buried under desire. The sound of gunfire rang in his ears and he moaned. He reached a hand out, steadying himself on Stark's shoulder.

“I protected you from those awful men. They would have unmasked you. Killed you,” Stark said. “What do you say, spiderling?”

His body was on fire and there was a pressure building inside of him that almost hurt. A whine escaped his throat. “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” he gasped.

Something snapped inside of him. It was as if his morality were being held together by a few thin threads and one of them had snapped like an old rubber band. Something didn't feel quite the same anymore.

He pulled himself against Stark's chest, practically in his lap. He whined again, feeling desperate and needy. His frustration only grew as Stark sat still, arms wrapped around him, saying nothing, doing nothing. He looked at him with those same gentle brown eyes. Peter's breath caught and his heart raced and he knew that no one had ever looked at him like that before.

Then the moment was gone. Stark hauled him up to his feet. Peter winced as he put weight on his injured leg, but he walked without any real trouble as he was lead to the lounge.

Stark pushed him backward onto the cushions. Peter's mouth watered as he watched the man strip, full suit coming off for the first time. Peter realized that he also needed to be naked exactly now. He tugged at red and blue spandex and he barely had it off before Stark was on top of him.

He moaned just to feel the softness of his skin, his weight pressing him down. Stark kissed a line across his collarbone, scraped his teeth against the curve of his neck leaving Peter gasping. He pressed his hips up against Stark's, feeling their cocks press together. He moaned, getting lost for a moment in possessive bites and sweet friction.

Then Stark was inside him, filling him up. He pressed deep, fucking him slow, dragging long whines and whimpers from Peter's lips. He hooked Peter's leg up over his shoulder, forcing every inch inside of him. Stark's hands wrapped around his neck, cutting off just enough air that Peter was reminded of the power in those hands.

Stark picked up the pace, fucking him, choking him, taking him apart. Peter was lost to it. He moaned and whimpered as the man used him, dominated him, owned him just like he claimed he did. Then Stark was pulling him up, turning him over, and bending him over the arm of the couch where Peter was reminded of the death just a few feet away.

The puddle of blood had grown into a pond. There bodies lay strewn in the middle of the gore, eyes wide and mouths hanging open. The pink that was splattered on the wall behind them was too much for Peter's mind to take and his felt dizzy.

Stark slowed his frantic thrusts, pressing in deep. “Do you see them?” Peter couldn't look away. “I killed them for you, Peter. They didn't deserve to touch you. They were unworthy of you. I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt you. And I won't be so quick about it next time.”

Peter whimpered. His wide eyes saw nothing but death and it did nothing to stop the pressure from building.

“Is that what you wanted, baby?” Tony purred in his ear. “Is that what turns you on? Do you like it that Daddy can kill whoever he wants whenever he wants and no one will ever be able to stop him?”

Peter shivered and moaned, he couldn't help himself as he pressed back onto Stark's cock. His fingers squeezed the plush cushion under his chest. His back dipped into an arch as his ass pressed against Stark's hips.

Stark wrapped a hand around his throat and pulled him back, pinning in place with his cock buried to the hilt in Peter's ass. “Tony Stark, the most powerful man in the New York,” he said. “Is that what does it for you? You like the blood on my hands, little spider? I warned you about that.”

His voice was dark without warmth or kindness. “Even you, Spiderman, you thought you could stop me and look where you ended up. Hanging off my cock, mewling like a bitch in heat. Can't get enough of me. You just keep crawling back and begging for more.”

Peter gasped. His nails dug into Stark's arm. His hips jerked, a breathy whine escaping him as he came, cum shooting across the fabric of the couch. Stark fucked him through it, still going even when it was too much, when it set his nerves on fire and the sounds that escaped him were almost screams. Then, finally the man was filling him, this time a lack of condom leaving him wet and gooey on the inside.

Peter's body hummed with over stimulation. His skin tingled. The moment Stark let him go, he collapsed onto the couch, not caring that it was damp. After a moment of being cold and strung out, a blanket wrapped around him. Then strong arms picked him up and took him away from the bloody office and the awful smell that was starting to occupy it.

They must have passed through a hidden door, because now they were in an apartment. Stark's apartment. He really didn't ever leave his tower.

Peter clung to the comfort of Stark's strong arms until he was deposited onto the greatest mattress he had ever felt. He found himself nestling down into the blankets with a comfortable sigh. A gentle hand stroked his hair, then Stark left him alone.

He heard the sound of glass clinking not far away. Stark must have been pouring himself a drink. Peter lay still and let his body rest as Stark quietly sipped, sitting somewhere across the room. He thought he had only closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened then, he was alone.

Wrapped the blanket around his bare shoulders, Peter left the bedroom. The living room he walked into was as big as the first floor of the Parkers' house. Peter found himself drawn to the floor to ceiling windows across from him. He looked out at the city lights. It was almost like being up in the sky, looking down at the stars. A beautiful sea of lights. The city seemed so calm where it sat at his feet.

Strange to think everything be so calm while Peter's own mind was racing with questions he couldn't answer.

Then, as he gazed out at the city, Peter was struck with the most horrifying realization. His spider-sense hadn't triggered when Stark picked up that gun. That had only happened to him once before and that was when he'd come home late and May mistook him for a burglar and hit him with an umbrella. He had assumed it was because he trusted her. Did he really trust Tony Stark not to shoot him?

Then, there he was. His feet padded lightly on the floor as Stark walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around him. Peter felt safe, yet the feeling burned in his chest. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. He tried so hard to be a hero. New York deserved a hero. These people all deserved someone who could protect them from people like the Kingpin who would step on them to reach their own goals. Even if Stark didn't intentionally hurt the average citizen, he didn't care if they suffered as a side effect of his pursuits. His heart longed to believe in Tony's good intentions. That in the end, he would work to make New York safer. Better. He had seen that the man really did believe in making the city safe. But his idea of safety wasn't what Peter considered to be right or just. Nothing about Tony Stark was fair. Not for anyone.

“Stay here tonight,” Stark said, gentle tone almost persuasive enough to convince him. His lips traced the crook of Peter's neck.

“I should go,” Peter whispered back.

“Stay,” he insisted, punctuating with a kiss.

Peter stared out the window, keeping his breathing even, keeping control. “Are you asking me as a man, or as the Kingpin?”

The weight of Stark's arms around him dropped away. His warmth receded as he took a step back. “Go home, Peter.”

Peter couldn't trust him. They weren't lovers. They were enemies caught in a mutual arrangement. An arrangement that would end before long. He was the Kingpin's pet, even if his heart ached to be Tony Stark's lover. That wasn't what this was. In fact, it was exactly what it should never be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about doing a chapter from Tony's POV soon, if anyone's interested.


	12. Chapter 12

Ben's trial was approaching rapidly. Peter wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen. Sure, Stark had told him that he would get his uncle off with merely a year, but his stomach still clenched. He sensed that something was about to go horribly wrong. Just what if he'd made a mistake in trusting the Kingpin? He could easily go back on his word. He tried not to think of the way Stark's arms felt around him and how it made him want to trust. He was teetering over the edge of a chasm.

May was growing increasingly nervous as well. She tried to hide it from Peter, but he could tell. She kept burning toast and jumping whenever the phone rang. They were both desperate to see Ben survive this. He was a good man who deserved another chance. If Stark didn't come through, Ben might not be the same man when it's all over.

A package came for Peter. He recognized the return address as Stark's tailor. Cutting through the tape, he wondered if the man had sent him the clothes he'd left there, but a humorless laugh escaped him as he realized what it was. Stark had had another suit made for him. This one was far less ostentatious, but it looked and felt expensive. He tried it on and found it fit well, better than the last one, which had been tailored to show him off like a doll. This was a more natural fit.

The day of the trial came and Peter pulled on the suit that was prepared for him. He joined May downstairs, trying not to seem like he was staring as he watched her put her hair up with shaking hands.

“Ready to go?” she asked with a forced smile.

Peter nodded. “It's gonna be okay, May.”

She nodded. She put her hands on Peter's shoulders. “Whatever happens, Pete, we have to remember that this isn't our faults. Ben made his own mistakes.”

“I know, May.” He pulled his aunt into a hug. “No matter what, we'll have each other when it's over.”

She nodded again, this time giving him a smile that was only half as forced. “We don't want to be late.” She looked his suit over. “You look handsome. I didn't know you owned a suit like that.”

“I uh,” Peter cleared his throat. “Got a bit of a raise at work. Bought something nice for today.”

She patted his arm. “It looks better for Ben if he has a good family standing behind him. He'll appreciate that.”

Peter was somewhat surprised that one of Stark's cars wasn't waiting for them out front; it was just a cab that May had called for herself. It felt a bit like riding in a dumpster after what Peter was used to. The seats were beaten and torn and the air smelled like sweat. He wondered if he would have even noticed those things before.

The march up the court house steps was filled with anxiety. Peter walked with May on his arm, hoping the gesture would offer her some comfort. At the top of the steps, he let out a quiet breath as he recognized one of Stark's private security standing by the door. He held it open for them, giving Peter a nod as he passed. Relief filled him as he realized Stark would not abandon him here after everything.

They kept marching on, through the security check and into the court room. Before long they marched Ben into the room. He gave his family a reassuring smile.

A lawyer stood to review the charges against him. Then another stood to discuss the prosecutions demands. Eight years, six with good behavior. Peter shivered and May squeezed his arm. He held his breath and he didn't release it until the judged bagged the gavel and it was done.

One year. A chance for parole after eight months.

May sobbed. Her grip on Peter's arm was crushing. “Eight months?” Peter turned to see the tears running over her cheeks and the smile that lit up her face.

They looked at Ben and he looked over his shoulder to give them both a bright smile. It didn't reach his eyes.

Peter pondered what it meant as they left the court house. Maybe he was just scared of going back to prison. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to be afraid of, but it still bothered him the way that Ben had looked at them.

May was cheerful as they made it back home. She called to order food to celebrate. Peter didn't feel much like celebrating as the feeling that something was about to go wrong still sat in his stomach.

They were eating out of cardboard cartons when the phone rang. May jumped up to get it.

“I hope they finally let Ben use the phone. He won't be able to call while he's being transferred.” She picked the phone up and answered with a cheery “Hello?”.

Sure enough, it was Ben. They talked for a while. Peter smiled as he listened to May happily discussing that it wouldn't be so bad this time because the sentence wasn't so long and they knew what to expect. She reassured him that it would be fine and she would stand by him, then she was calling Peter over to the phone.

The hair on the back of his neck raised as he walked to the kitchen where the phone hung on the wall. He put his ear. “Hey, Ben. Congrats! I guess...” he laughed a little. “Sounds like you and May have everything under control.”

“Do we?” Ben's voice was dark.

“Huh?” Peter looked at May in the next room, dancing to the music on what looked to be a commercial for a car.

“I know what you do when you climb out your window at night. I was scared, of course, when I figured it out. Then I realized,” he paused with a laugh. “You get that sense of responsibility from me. You don't have to carry the world on your shoulders, but you do. I wish you wouldn't. I really wish you wouldn't have done this either.”

“Done what, Ben? What are you talking about?”

Ben sighed. “I got a visit from a lawyer, Mathew Murdock. You heard of him?”

“I've heard the name,” Peter admitted, keeping it close just how well he knew him. He swallowed. The feeling of apprehension was growing rapidly.

“Someone sent him to me. Working with a man like that comes with a price. After today, I realize I was never the one who was going to pay it.”

“What do you mean?” Cold, shivers, raised hair. Peter wasn't sure if it was spider-sense or human sense, but his nerves were on fire.

“I don't know what you did, Pete. Now, you make sure May doesn't get wrapped up in.”

“I didn't-” He tried it cover it up, but it was too late to hide it.

“Don't bother. I don't want to hear it. I don't even want to hear your voice, Peter.” The words hit home like a punch in the gut. He knew and he hated him. Just like Peter knew he would.

“I'm disappointed in you. I'm a little too familiar with the underground for this one to fly over my head. I don't know what you offered the Kingpin to get us here and I don't want to know. All I know is, you had better keep your aunt safe. If anything happens to her, I'm holding you responsible. Do you understand me?”

Peter wiped away a tear. “Yes, sir.” He throat was tight, but he managed not to show it when he spoke.

“Good. Don't visit me either. I love you, Peter, but after everything I've done for you I can't help but be disgusted. I did everything to keep you far from this and you-”

“Ben, I'm sorry. I was just trying to help you!”

There was a thump and then, “The inmate has disconnected. Thank you for using-”

Peter put the phone back on the receiver. His chest heaved, but he didn't have the freedom to cry in front of May. Not right now. He took a minute to gather himself.

Back in the living room, May tried to rope him to an episode of The Bachelor. “Sorry, May,” he brushed her off. “I just got a text from work. Mr. Albie is dealing with a no-show. Said he'd pay me overtime.” Peter shrugged and gave his aunt a small smile.

“Yeah, alright,” she smiled back. “But don't expect me to leave you any churros. They won't be any good tomorrow anyway.” She winked.

“Fair. See you tomorrow, okay?”

May nodded. “Go on, then. I love you, Peter.”

“Love you too, May.”

He barely made it out the door before the tears fell. He walked and walked, hoped on a train, and walked some more. Finally he realized where his feet were taking him and he picked up the pace.

Peter hurried out of the elevator, brain still on auto-pilot as he walked to Stark's office. He let himself in and was half-way across the room when he noticed Murdock standing next to Stark's desk. Peter glared at him.

“Get out,” Peter snarled. He clenched his teeth.

Murdock turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “The little spider gives orders now?”

“Leave,” Peter said, the weight of the word seeming to fill the room.

“Go on,” Stark said.

Poker face hiding the emotion Peter knew was there, Murdock left without another word. As he brushed past, Peter felt as though he had been burned.

No one moved or spoke until the door closed and Murdock's footsteps faded into the elevator.

“I thought you would be home celebrating,” Stark said, there was a smile on his lips, but it didn't hide the concern in his eyes. “What's wrong, Pete?”

Peter shook his head, unable to find the words. He opened his mouth to speak and when nothing came out he only shook his head again. Tears blurred his vision until he squeezed his eyes shut.

Stark was up and hurrying across the floor in an instant. His hands found Peter's biceps. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Peter sobbed. He pulled himself into Stark's chest. The man held him as he cried, rapidly falling tears dampening the fabric of his suit. He cried until his heaving sobs made him sway on his feet and Stark pulled him to the couch, though he never released him from his arms.

“I never should have come to you,” Peter sniffled.

Stark stopped where he was stroking Peter's hair. “Do you want to leave?”

“That's not what I mean.” Fingers twisting in Tony's shirt, he pulled himself in closer. The hand on his head continued to pet his curls. “It's my uncle.”

“He's safe, darling. I have people looking out for him.”

“He hates me,” Peter whimpered, words choking out with a sob. “I knew he would. I knew if he found out that he would be upset and he did and now he hates me.”

“I'm sure he doesn't hate you.”

“No, he said he loves me, but that doesn't mean he doesn't hate me.”

A comforting hand stroked his back as Stark held him close.

“What am I gonna do?” he sobbed.

“He'll come around eventually.” Tony's hand caught his chin and pulled his head up to look at him. “You just keep doing what you always do. You protect your family, and you protect the people of this damned city, and you keep going. Your uncle will come to realize why you did it. It'll be alright.”

Peter took a deep breath, allowing himself to fall under the spell of the man's words. He could believe that it would all be okay in the end. He would keep protecting his uncle no matter what Ben said. That didn't mean that it didn't hurt or that Ben would ever trust him again.

“You can trust me on this one. I know first hand that people don't always appreciate it when we do what's best for them.”

Is that what Stark thought, Peter wondered. That he was doing what was best for their city? Painting it all in red hardly seemed like the right answer. It was hard to compare them when Peter hadn't done anything as drastic as kill someone.

Peter found himself crying again. The pain of his uncle's rejection was unbearable. Ben was the only father figure he had ever known and now he was being cast out, tossed aside. It was understandable for him to be upset, but Peter felt it would have been kinder if them man had stood up in that court room and punched him.

“Do you think he'll ever forgive me?” Peter sighed.

“If he loves you, Peter, he will.”

He let himself be pulled into Stark's arms, making himself cozy against his chest. Exhausted from crying, he didn't even have the energy to be disgusted with himself for seeking comfort from the Kingpin. It wasn't like he had anyone else.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked.

It was a long moment before he answered. “I know that I'm all you have. And you-” He stopped himself.

Peter placed a hand over Stark's where it rested on his stomach. “You can tell me,” he coaxed gently.

Another long moment passed and then Stark whispered his reply, “You're all I have, too.”

Peter laid his head in the man's lap and looked up at him. Stark held his gaze, stroking his hair back from his forehead.

“When you live like I do, there's no one you can trust, Pete,” he said. His eyes shined with something painful.

Peter didn't say anything. It was scary the way they were both so vulnerable in this moment. They were exposed nerves that could be inflamed by a single word. To say anything at all felt like biting a bullet. So, they both were quiet.

Peter lay still, eyes wide open, looking up at the man above him. The warmth of his lap, the hand in his hair, the hand on his chest, he felt safe. He felt warm. His heart wanted to trust. And that hurt too. It would be so easy to fill the hole his uncle had made with his feelings for Tony. But he couldn't do that. They could have each other like this, but they could never trust each other. No matter what Peter's spider-sense seemed to think. No matter what his heart wanted.

It was a long night of crying in Tony's arms. Without a word being spoke, they ended up in his bed, half dressed and curled around each other. There were kisses, both affectionate and gentle kisses and the deep passionate kind. Never once did Stark move to take it further or to ask anything at all of Peter.

In fact, neither of them said a word, afraid it would shatter the reality of this forbidden moment.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished up chapter 15 and I can safely say that it's in Tony's pov (and it's gorgeous)

Spiderman swung from building tops, red suit blurring past dark windows. Every breath burned in his chest as he fled, panic lighting up his mind. There was no escaping them, the three lizards that were hot his heels. In a final attempt to turn things around, Spiderman dropped onto a rooftop and turned to face them.

“Come on, guys! Let's talk about this! If it's rent money you're after, I swear I'll have it at the end of the week!” He stood his ground as they dropped down in front of him.

“Oh Peter,” said one lizard. “Is that all your good for? Running your mouth?”

“But your mouth is for other things these days isn't it?” said another lizard.

“And you thought Murdock was the Kingpin's pet, did you?”

The lizards all laughed, the sound echoing off of the buildings until Peter was forced to cover his ears at the overwhelming sound of it.

The first lizard reached up and took its head off Scooby-Doo style. Underneath was Gwen. “You're no hero. You're a murderer. You're as bad as he is.”

“Gwen, no! I'm not- I... I'm sorry! I didn't mean to... I didn't know!” Peter babbled, heart racing. Gwen's face held only mockery, no room for forgiveness.

The second lizard removed its head and it was Harry. “You're disgusting, Pete. What? One millionaire wasn't good enough for you?”

“It's not like that, Harry! I was taking care of my family- I didn't have a choice!”

The third lizard removed its head and it was Ben. “I'm so disappointed in you, Peter. I thought you were a hero. I never should have trust you. We should have let the system take you when your parents died.”

“No, Ben... Don't say that,” Peter sobbed. “Please.” Peter collapsed under the weight of his pain. He fell to his knees and when he looked up the three lizards were gone and the real Gwen, Harry, and Ben stood there.

Holes opened up in each of their heads and blood ran down. Their angry and disgusted expressions turned to cold emptiness.

“No! No, Gwen- Harry!” Peter reached out to them. “Ben!”

From the shadows behind them came Tony Stark. He held the gun that killed them. “What do you say, little spider?”

“Peter?” May stood nearby. She looked at him with pain and concern as if she couldn't see the rest of the scene. “Peter?” she asked again.

Peter reached for her and her arms reached out, but they went right through him.

“May?”

“Peter!”

“Peter!”

Peter felt like he was falling and then suddenly, he was in his bed. He opened his eyes to see May standing beside the bed. The concern on her face was just like it was in his dream.

“May? What's going on?” he muttered, brain muddled from tormenting dreams.

May stroked his hair back from his head and Peter felt himself relax a little. “I was just waking up when I heard you in here whimpering. Are you alright?”

Peter nodded. “Just a bad dream... I think. I don't remember it now.”

May smiled a little. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she held her tongue. Instead she gave him a nod and said, “I'll make breakfast. No class for you this weekend right?”

“Nope. I do have some time scheduled at the bodega though.”

May chewed her lip. “Well... I was thinking you and I should spend some time together. We've had a lot to deal with lately. When you have some time, maybe we could go to the park. Have a nice walk together.”

“I'd like that.” He smiled at his aunt.

After pulling himself out of bed, still tired, Peter dragged himself down to the bodega. Things were slow for a Saturday which only made Peter want to fall asleep even more. By the time he was stepping outside and into the sunlight, he was ready to go home and slip back into his bed. But he had promised May he would meet her for a walk. So, he turned and walked in the opposite direction of home.

May seemed happy to see him, but there was still something in her eyes that wasn't quite right. He wondered if Ben had something to her, but it didn't seem like he would when he wanted to be kept out of it. Telling her what was going on would be the fastest way to get her involved. Still, she smiled and took Peter's hand.

They walked along the path chatting about anything at all. May talked about her work at the homeless shelter and a woman there she'd helped get a job. She pointed out birds and squirrels in the trees. Then, she talked about Ben and how he was settling in. She said things were going well enough for him, that he hadn't run into any trouble and was keeping his nose clean. Peter thought she seemed hopeful. Then she stopped and she rounded on him.

“What have been doing lately, Pete? You've been staying out late again, I noticed.”

“Well uh...” Peter came up with the only thing he could say that wasn't a lie. “Harry's back in town...”

“Oh?” May blinked at him. “And are you two...”

“We're still working out the details... it's hard after everything. I'm not totally sure he's okay after Gwen...”

May nodded. “The three of you grew up together. You and Harry might have been lovers, but Gwen meant something different to him. And the poor thing lost his mother so soon and he didn't have anyone else. I don't imagine Norman is a great person for teaching a child to handle emotions. I'm proud of you for being there for him.”

Peter averted his eyes. “Yeah...”

May seemed to catch a different meaning from the gesture. “You don't have to tell me about it of course. I'm sure you two have your own way of working through things. Just remind him that he's always welcome in our home. Try to convince him to come to dinner sometime this week.”

“I will,” Peter smiled. He wondered how Stark's people were coming along with that cure. Maybe Stark would let him pitch in if he asked. Though he hadn't seen the guy in almost a week now and he didn't want make an excuse to see him when he didn't have to.

They continued their walk a lot more quietly. And then Peter's phone rang. Though it wasn't save in his phone, he recognized the number.

“May, I'm sorry. I gotta take this.” He grimaced and quickly backed away holding up his phone with a shrug.

May smiled. “Don't worry about it, Pete. I'll see you back home, okay?”

In the relative privacy he had as May left him, Peter answered the phone. A part of him was disappointed when it was Stark's secretary and not the man himself.

“Mr. Stark would like to see you in his office,” she said, voice chiming with false pleasantry.

“Did he say what for?” Peter asked. He hope this was about a job and that the man hadn't taken to calling him up for sex. He wasn't sure he was emotionally prepared to deal with that.

He heard the phone hit the receiver just before his phone chimed to signal the call had ended.

“Everyone's so friendly,” Peter grumbled to himself. He jogged back through the park and found himself someplace private.

After quickly changing into his suit, he swung across the city to Hell's Kitchen. His spider-sense triggered as he neared the building. He looked down to spot Murdock getting into a car parked at the curb. Just the man's presence was enough to set him off. Peter found it ironic that the real threat left him feeling safe while the dog that wouldn't bite without his master's order put him on edge enough to trigger a primal danger reflex. Hilarious.

He swung into the office and was surprised to see his teammates gathered around Stark's desk. They all looked nervous and Stark was just sitting there, looking at them. The sadist probably got off on watching them all tremble.

“Spiderman,” Stark turned to him with a smile. “Always comes when I call.”

Peter rolled his eyes under his mask. The guy just had to show off. “What's the job?”

“This one is a little different,” Stark explained. “There's an art gallery in the Upper East Side I want you all to stake out. I've gotten you access to their security system, keep an eye out for anyone who clearly shouldn't be there.”

“Like who?” Peter asked.

“Don't worry about who. If you find someone suspicious, you bring them back here to me. Understood?”

Stark's men all nodded offering an immediate 'yes, sir'.

Peter chewed his lip. Could he do that? Could he drag someone back to Stark Tower knowing how easily Stark could kill? Or worse?

Stark looked at him from his seat. “If you can't stomach it, Spiderman, leave any intruders to my men. They'll bring them back for you.”

Still Peter hesitated. Did he really have to participate in this? What would Stark do if he just said no? Technically, his uncle's trial was over... but Stark said he would keep the man safe in prison. And he wasn't sure what would happen if he backed out now.

“I'm not asking you to bring me the moon, Spiderman,” Stark sighed. “Just an art thief.”

With a disgruntled sigh, Peter flipped back out the window. He waited for the truck to leave the garage then he followed the group to the gallery. He grumbled to himself the whole way there. A part of him thought to demand choose one now that the trial was over: Peter Parker or Spiderman. His stomach dropped knowing what Stark's choice would be.

The art gallery was lit up like a movie premier. Two massive hanging banners announced its grand opening. Expensive cars lined the street, dropping off guests. It looked almost as exclusive as the gala Stark had dragged him to.

The crew down below were directed on where to park. Then security let them in through a side door, apparently unworthy of a VIP entrance. Peter found his own way into the building. Once his guys were alone in the security office, while the building's security worked the floor, Peter slipped into the room through the air duct.

“So, what are we dealing with?” Peter asked the boys.

Ted refused to look at him. Max gave him a sympathetic twist of his mouth. “Boss says the Black Cat has her eye on this event.”

“Black Cat?”

“You don't know her? Long white hair, tight black cat suit, sexy, but she'll steal your wallet while you're looking at her... you know.”

Keith snickered. “Married guys.” Max elbowed him.

“I love my wife, okay? Anyway, Spiderman. She usually doesn't show while there's a crowd, but it happened once, so we're here early.” He shrugged.

“Right.” Peter looked at the cameras, even from a distance, a black cat suit was sure to stand out in crowd of black and white suits and colorful ballgowns. He scanned for anything weird, keeping an eye on the areas closest to the art.

Ted snorted. “Looks like the boss came out to enjoy the fun. Guess he's hoping she'll show early.”

Peter's heart skipped a beat. He looked to the entrance where Stark was striding in... a skinny young man hung off his arm. Blond, very blond. Peter hated him. Didn't realize he was staring until Max drew there attention to camera on the second floor.

“Bet that's what she's after.”

“What is it?” Peter asked.

“See, all of the other paintings in here are for sale. Most art thieves are looking to nab the most expensive thing in the room, but this woman, she's gunning for the priceless stuff. And that's the only piece that's not for sale.”

Peter looked at the painting. It was made up of mostly red and blues. It looked like an overhead image of Queens. Then his eyes were drawn to the painting beside it. Pink and white with a little bit of blue thrown in. Then there was golden yellow standing out in its center. Gwen.

“I'll be back,” he told the guys. Then he scurried off through the vent to get a closer look.

Hanging from the ceiling, Peter stared upside at the painting. But it wasn't the only one of its kind. Forming a circle with the painting of Queens at its head, were all pictures of Gwen Stacy. Two were abstract, one giving the feeling of potential and hope, while the other was more dull, had more grays. It felt like loss. The way Peter always felt when he thought about Gwen. That is, underneath all of the guilt. Some of the others Gwen with father, Captain Stacy, Gwen in her prom dress, Gwen leaning slyly against the wall of the high school. Who ever painted these, had captured her perfectly. They must have known her.

The one at the center of it all that separated the two more abstract paintings was the red and blue Queens. Red and blue like Spiderman. Whoever made these paintings knew Gwen and they blamed Spiderman for her death.

Heart aching, Peter found himself staring, trapped in the moment. It wasn't until he smelled Stark's cologne that he snapped out of it. Looking down he spotted Stark entering the room with the night's boy toy. He knew they weren't exclusive. They weren't even technically together, but everything the man said about trusting no one, about Peter being the only one he had... he expected more.

Mr. Arm Candy laughed at something Stark said and they went to view the piece at the center. The only relief Peter found was knowing that when they were together, Tony couldn't keep his hands off of him. But this guy, Stark had walked in with him on his arm, but they stood apart now. He kept trying to get more of Stark's attention, throwing himself at the guy, but the man only had eyes for the blending, swirling, red and blue, cityscape. Peter wondered if he was thinking of him.

A camera shutter drew his attention as someone snapped a picture of Stark and his boy of the night. He crawled back into the ventilation and he stayed there until the party ended.

The lights were off, but the lenses of Peter's suit adjusted so he could see clearly without them. He heard the footsteps of guards downstairs as well as Stark's men as they all monitored the rooms. Then a different sound caught his ear. It was almost silent. As soft as the padding of cat feet over carpet. But this kitty was in the ventilation.

Peter poked his head out a second after she did. She was coming out of the vent directly above the painting of Queens. Max was right, priceless was worth more to her than pricey.

No one had come running when she removed the grate, so she must have disabled the motion sensor. Silently and quickly, she slid her narrow form out of the vent and crawled down the wall. Peter shot a web to the rafters and swung down to greet her.

“Don't you think the ears are a little on the nose?” he asked.

A soft gasp caught her throat, but she played it off coolly as she looked up at him. “What can I say? What better cat burglar can there be than a cat? I suppose you're here for me?”

“Sorta. Actually, I was hoping we could talk.”

“Sorry, Spidey. I don't do interviews.” She crawled further down the wall and slid a device between the wall and painting's frame.

“I can't let you do that, Black Cat,” Peter declared, business-like.

She didn't falter in her process as whatever she did removed the alarm from the painting without tripping it. “Is that so? Are you really going to protest as I dismantle this little fanart tribute to your failure? It's a disgrace how anyone could think you killed that little girl.”

Peter flushed. He'd never actually had someone let him off the hook for Gwen like that. The thing was though, any way you looked at it, he had killed her. “It was an accident.”

“Was it?” She reached for the frame and Peter shot a web at her hand. She snatched it back to her chest just in time.

She gave a light, humorless, laugh. “Mon cher, you are a treat. I hope I see you again soon, Spidey.”

A harsh sound like the screeching of a cat made him jump. He spun around as the guards all ran to the opposite corner of the building, chasing the sound. Peter realized a second too late what it was. He turned back and coughed as smoke filled his lungs. When it cleared, the painting and the Black Cat were gone.

Having at both his job and his own plan to get Black Cat to tell him why Starked wanted her in the first place, Spiderman rode back in the van with the guys. He did a lot of sighing along the way and no one asked why.

“I know you guys don't want to be the ones to tell Stark we messed up, so let me handle it. Go home to your families, alright?” He hopped out of the van as they others climbed out behind him.

“Ah, thanks, Spiderman. You don't know what a relief that is,” Max said, clasping a hand on Peter's shoulder.

“Not problem, Max. You guys have a nice night,” Peter said trying not mope.

The boys all left, heading home. Meanwhile, Peter took the elevator to the top floor.

Stark was, thankfully, alone in his office. When Peter walked in the room, he immediately knew what was up.

“Where is she, Parker?” he growled, danger in every layer of his voice.

“She escaped, before I could nab her.”

“Did you even try?” Stark glared. The pen in his fist snapped.

Peter rolled his shoulders debating which road to take here and deciding to deflect. “Why do you want this Black Cat so badly anyway?”

“She took something from me.” Stark looked away from his staring off at the wall.

“And you want it back?”

“No, I want her dead.”

Peter crossed his arms and planted his feet. Did Stark forget just who Peter was? Maybe he'd let a lot of unsavory shit get past him lately, but he had his limits. “I told you before this whole thing started. You'll never convince me to be a killer.”

Stark's eyes snapped back to his face. “I didn't ask you to kill anyone, don't be dramatic.”

“You told me to bring her to you and the way I see it, that's practically the same thing.”

Stark dropped the broken pen, ink staining his palm. He walked around the desk to stalk towards him.“I own your spider ass until your uncle comes home, like it or not, princess. You don't have to like the way I do things. You just have to do what I say and keep your mouth shut about it.”

Peter took a step back, but he held his posture rigid. “I'm not your toy soldier. I don't follow you blindly, Stark, and I'm not going to let you kill someone just because you want to.”

Stark grinned, Peter's back hit the wall. “We both know you already have. More than once, my dear.” His hand gripped Peter's throat, squeezing. “You're mine. In fact, I think you might just be addicted to me. You've got that look in your eyes. Like a junkie. You know it's bad, but you can't stop.”

His tongue slipped out to trace Peter's lip and his mouth parted for it. Stark laughed. “Don't worry, little spider. I won't make you kill her. I told you I wouldn't do that. I'll find her myself. I know just how to get her now. You've been a big help.”

Stark kissed Peter sweetly. At first he was only nauseated. But Stark was right, he was addicted and the sweet taste of his lips made everything else go away until he was whining, pressing himself closer, begging for a deeper kiss. Stark obliged him for a moment, then let him fall back against the wall.

“I have work to do... since you couldn't do your job.” Stark threw a wink over his shoulder as he walked back to his desk.

Peter saw himself out, rolling his eyes. Once again, he was walking away from doing the right thing. And he couldn't pretend anymore that his reasons weren't selfish.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm double posting the next chapter with this one both because this chapter is kind of filler and also to make up for a lack of content while I'm on vacation for the next ten days <3

The next day, Peter went back to the gallery. After its grand opening night, it was open to the public. There weren't a lot of people around in the middle of the day so it didn't take long for Peter to navigate his way to the area he was looking for.

The painting of Queens was still missing, leaving a gaping hole in the scene. Peter wondered why the artist didn't close the gallery. From the ground, the paintings looked a lot bigger than they had before. He felt he was drowning in them as he stood in the center. Even with the missing painting, it was overwhelming. He was breathing too quickly. Then there was a hand on his shoulder.

He turned and a ruby lipped smile beamed at him.

“Peter,” Felicia purred. Her hair was different, more natural and much shorter. What had it looked like before? Blonde? “I'm so glad to see you. Looks like someone's been missing our girl.”

“Felicia, do you know who the artist is?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “No clue, but they perfectly captured that defiant gleam in her eye didn't they?”

Peter sighed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Did you see that one before the cat stole it?” She pointed at the empty wall. “I was here last night. It was beautiful.”

“I uh... I didn't see it,” Peter stammered.

“Oh? That's right. Tony Stark brought a different friend last night.” The corners of her lips turned up.

“He's kind of known for that.”

She sidled up beside him, her arm brushed his. As she turned her head, her breath ghosted against his cheek. “You know, mon cher, you could have a different rich friend. Someone who appreciates you and only you.”

Peter turned to look at her, beautiful, red lips only an inch away. She was tempting. And she wanted him. Wanted him without all of the strings Stark came with. Without all of the blood. He could have someone who wasn't playing cat and mouse with him. That's when a few things fell into place in his mind.

“Sorry, Felicia. I can't say I'm not interested, I just... I can't.”

Her smile didn't falter. Her hand stroked his chest. “Are you certain? I can offer you things Tony Stark can't. I can adore you like Tony Stark can't.”

Peter's heart fluttered. “Sorry.” He grimaced and then he ran.

There was a very good chance that Stark was watching his every move and if he figured out that Black Cat and Felicia Hardy were the same person, she was dead.

It took a few phone calls and a couple of hours, but Peter finally got through to the man who ran the gallery. He was very enthusiastic to talk about it as well.

“Mr. Baker, I was curious to know about one of the collections in your gallery,” Peter asked, hoping he sounded awed enough to flatter the man.

“Yes of course! But I've attracted so many talented artists,” said the voice on the line. “So many contacted me about joining the gallery! Which is it you want to know about?”

“Well, actually, sir. I was curious about the paintings of Gwen Stacy. There was no credit for the artist anywhere that I saw.” He had to know. There was someone out there who loved Gwen as much as he had and if Harry was in Stark's basement then who's collection was in the gallery?

“Oh... I see...” the excitable voice became hesitant.

“Please, sir. I understand if they wanted to be anonymous, but Gwen is- was... Gwen was one of my best friends and I just want to know who it was that captured her like that. Their work is amazing. It doesn't just look like her. It feels like she's there in the room.”

“I see,” he said again. “I swore I wouldn't reveal the artist. She didn't want anyone to know. But I suppose no one asked me not to reveal her benefactor.”

“Benefactor?”

“Yes, you see, while many of the artists sell prints of their works through my galleries, there is a fee to be a part of them in the first place. And this collection was very special, very different. I was almost willing to make an exception knowing that it would draw great attention from the community! But before I could decide I was sent a check!”

“From who, Mr. Baker?”

“Well... Norman Osborn.”

It didn't make sense. If the paintings were Harry's then sure, but Mr. Baker had called the artist a 'she'. It sounded like he's spoken to them, so it wasn't like Norman had simply lied about the artist being his son. But who would know Gwen like that and have a connection to Norman Osborn? He thought for a minute that it might be Felicia. It made sense that she wouldn't want her name connected to it. She couldn't be caught having emotions when she had her bratty diva image to keep up. But Felicia had her own money.

Peter sighed. There was only one thing to do.

He made it as far as the Oscorp security desk before his plan was stopped in his tracks.

“I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Osborn's secretary says he doesn't know any 'Peter Parker's,” said the security man with a bald head and a scary scowl.

Peter sighed. “She's lying okay? Me and Harry were best friends our whole lives. I really need to see him.”

The scary security man crossed his arms. “Call her back. Tell her it's Harry's friend Peter and I need to speak to Mr. Osborn about his son. I promise, she'll have a different answer this time.”

He scowled. “If I call again, will you leave?”

Peter nodded. “I promise.”

He sighed. “Fine.” He stepped away to be replaced by another scary security guy. Then he came back a moment later. “I'm to escort you straight to Mr. Osborn's office. If you'll come with me, Mr. Parker.”

The elevator ride was quiet and tense. Jazzy elevator music offered no relief between the disgruntled security guard and the anxiety driven college student. When the metal box finally stopped on the top floor, Peter let out a quiet breath. The doors slid open and Peter stepped out into the foyer.

“This had better be good, Peter,” the tall blonde secretary said as she half jogged around her desk. “If you're lying about knowing something about Harry, he'll toss us both from the roof.”

Peter shrugged, hoping he looked innocent. “It's private.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, just be quiet when you go in. He's finishing up a phone call.”

She opened the door silently and let Peter into the office. The room was slightly larger than Tony's office and significantly more decorated. Norman had awards hanging on the walls, the key to the city, a tank of exotic fish, and a massive painting of his family. Peter looked up at Harry's bright eyes. The artist had made them exactly like his mother's. He didn't remember her well enough to know if they really looked that similar. He and Harry had both been very young when she died.

Norman finished his call and hung up the phone. Peter slowly approached the massive desk. The wood was thick and strong and carved with a swirling design that distracted him for a minute.

“Peter,” Norman said, sighing like it wasn't the first time. He finally met the man's eye. “I was told you said something about Harry. If you know where he is... please tell me.”

Peter had never seen such desperation in Norman's eyes. He had always been such a composed man, but after losing his wife, Harry was all he had.

“I uh... I wanted to ask you something, too.”

Norman sat back in his seat and folded his hands under his chin. “Is that so?”

“Nothing you wouldn't want to tell me. I just needed to say something so that you would talk to me in the first place.” Peter grimaced.

Norman glared. “You don't know where Harry is do you?”

Peter put his hands up in innocence. “I saw him recently. I swear! It was a few weeks ago, now. He found me after work at the bodega. He couldn't stop talking about Gwen. He walked home with me and then... he kind of just took off. I haven't seen him since, I swear. But he was in New York.”

Norman closed his eyes. Peter wasn't sure what he was thinking.

“I wish you would have called when you saw him.”

“I didn't know he was missing. Which you would have been able to tell me if you would take any of my calls. I've been leaving you messages ever since- Harry left,” Peter didn't bother to hide the accusation in his voice.

“Yes, alright. I sent my son away to Europe and I didn't tell his friends.” Norman snorted, rolling eyes as if Peter were being very annoying. “Then he came home talking about joining the army. I did everything I could to stop him. But once the paper work was signed... even I can't stop the federal government. The state certainly, but I don't have the resources to fight the army.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Anyway. I was told you knew the artist behind the exhibit. The one of Gwen at the new Upper East Side gallery.”

Norman smirked. “You mean she hasn't told you? Mary Jane contacted me about having it displayed. Didn't know she was so talented... just like my Emily. Harry always only ever had eyes for you. I tried to get him to see what a sweet girl Mary Jane is. So smart, too. She's graduating Syracuse next year. I've offered to pay for her graduate degree, but she insists on going into journalism with a bachelor's,” he sighed.

“Mr. Osborn,” Peter redirected. “She asked you to pay to put up her art?”

He nodded. “I thought it was odd myself, that she would ever ask me for anything, but in she walked carrying a painting of that girl. Never liked Gwen... too aggressive. She tried too hard.” Norman cleared his throat. “Anyway, it appears that my son isn't the only one with a vendetta against the Spiderman. Though, where one chooses to learn how to kill, the other takes up more delicate talents.”

Peter rolled his eyes again. “Well, thanks, Mr. Osborn. I just wanted to know...”

“I suppose you would be curious. Those paintings were quiet intimate weren't they? Those two must have been very close.”

“They were in a band.”

Norman smiled. “Adorable.”

“It was good seeing you, Mr. Osborn.” Peter turned away to leave. Norman cleared his throat and he stopped.

“For what it's worth, Peter. I don't hate you. I just always understood that you were little more than a distraction for my son. You were always destined to set him off the right path. And then Spiderman went and did it for you. So, I suppose you're not to blame in the end. Please let me know if you see Harry again.”

Peter hesitated with his hand on the door handle. “I will,” he promised.


	15. Tony's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I double posted this chapter with the last one so make sure you've read chapter 14 first.

Peter was breath taking. He slid into the car beside him and Tony's mind shut down. Sure, Peter was always pretty, but wrapped in Tony's favorite red and gold he was a treasure. The colors were as good tattooing his name on the boy's chest. He blushed so pretty as Tony looked him over. The possessive heat that overtook him Peter tried to play coy was unexpected, but he hadn't bought those clothes just for anyone. Peter was _his_.

Tony had spent years perfecting his public face, but Peter looked tense and uncomfortable. He tried to offer the boy a drink, then stepped away to get one for himself and that's where the night hit its lowest point. He turned around, drink in hand, to face none other than Norman Osborn. The man was a shrewd copycat of all that Tony was. While Tony had built himself up from dirt, Osborn had piggybacked off of his family's money to get himself into fancy schools and ass kiss his way into building up his company.

“Norman, good to see you,” Tony offered the many a sly wink over his glass before he nearly chugged the damn thing.

“Stark,” Osborn said. He was hiding a glare under a mask of his own.

“What can I do for you, _Norman_?” he emphasized.

“I heard you were bringing a friend tonight. A mutual friend of ours?”

He was clenching his teeth, hiding his hands in his pockets, Tony noted. He leaned in closer to the man. “I'm not fucking your son, Norman. You're the one obsessed with me, not the other way around.”

The man's lip twitched with distaste and he took a half step back. 

“I don't know where your son is,” Tony said. “But I don't have any reason to keep him from you. Do I?”

“If I find out you're behind this, Stark-”

“Don't come crying to me because you can't control your child. Your failings as a parent don't concern me.” Tony smiled and set his empty glass on the bar. “Have a good evening, Norman.” He turned away to pick up his refilled glass, then went back to where he had left Peter.

The boy was gone, arms wrapped around some glittering doll of a woman. He would be jealous if it weren't for the fact that the boy held her like he was at a homecoming dance. Even more satisfying was when she tried to move in closer and he immediately removed himself from the dance floor. Tony couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Peter made such a darling little pet.

Finding out that the woman in question was Felicia Hardy soured things. He caught the eye of Happy standing nearby and received a nod. His men were already on it. They would likely ambush her on her way out and Tony would finally have himself the good night he was looking for. Still, what right did that creature have to touch what was so obviously his?

Later after the gala, Tony stepped into the elevator with his crew. He sighed and a smile crossed his face. He closed his eyes, picturing Peter's blushing cheeks. Every time their eyes met the poor boy fought a war within his own mind. Tony watched it flicker across his lenses and every time he gave in. He let the glow of the moment fade. It was time to get back to business. Besides, it wasn't supposed to end up this way. He shouldn't let himself get so distracted.

He never intended on getting so attached. Already Tony found himself imagining ways to get Peter to stay with him once his uncle's sentence was over. He'd gone so far as to consider framing the man for another crime and re-upping on their deal. But Peter would hate him if he found out about it. And Tony couldn't stand the thought of that.

It was insane. The little spider had hated him to start with. He could see it in his eyes. Underneath the lust he had tried to fight. Tony had never intended to deny himself. What he expected, though, was a few generous touches here and there. A couple of well worded sentences to make the boy blush. Things to tuck away for time spent alone. And then he saw the boy's fear. His uncle meant everything to him. So he exploited it, wormed his way underneath. But even as he did, he couldn't stand the thought of forcing himself on the boy. He wanted him bent to his will, never broken.

Back in the safety of his office, Tony fell back into himself. He hated going to events. In his tower he could look down on the world and remember how powerful he was. He could raze this city to the ground if he wanted to. Out there, he wasn't any less Tony Stark, but something about all the people and all the noise made him feel unsteady. At least with Peter on his arm he had a pretty distraction.

He sat down at his desk and waited for Murdock to address him. Of course, he already knew that Felicia Hardy had been there at the gala. It was time to discuss their next steps concerning that little rat. Yet, that wasn't the first thing Murdock brought up.

“Don't you think the boy is making you a tad soft?” he said in that even, measured way he did. It made Tony grit his teeth sometimes. He always hid what he felt under the surface of his voice, never letting it out.

Tony snorted. “Really? I was thinking the opposite.” Murdock didn't laugh and Tony knew something was up with him. “What's your problem, champ? Not getting enough of daddy's attention?”

Murdock didn't even blink, but Tony was certain he hit the nail on the head. “He's going to get you killed. That's all I'm saying. I shouldn't have to remind you what happens when you start trusting people.”

“I don't even trust you, Mathew. I'm not going to start trusting some kid.” Tony rolled his eyes, but his stomach knotted. Murdock never lied to him. If he was saying something about it then it must look bad. It must look like he's getting too close. Too friendly. What was going on with Peter was a business deal and it needed to stay that way.

“Please take it into consideration, Tony.”

Then Tony had a thought. If it appeared that he was very close to Peter, then it would likely seem that way to any keen eye. “Murdock, I want men keeping tabs on Peter. Everywhere he goes, someone has his back.”

“Afraid someone is after your toy?”

“Felicia Hardy.”

Murdock smiled. “Oh, I see. He's bait.”

Afraid that Murdock was right, Tony pushed Peter away as well as he could. The next time he saw Peter, he barely made eye contact. Didn't even check out his ass in that tight suit. In fact he barely looked at him. He gave him a quick debrief and then sent him off to play.

Murdock came in to confirm that for all of their efforts they were no closer to finding Hardy. She hadn't taken the bait yet and they needed a plan to push her out of hiding. Hardy was a diva. They needed something glamorous, but they couldn't be sure that she would be there unless it was worth it to her. They needed to sweeten the pot.

The door burst open before they could make a solid plan. In came three of his men, dragging his spider between them. His first thought was concern that his spider had been hurt, but that was quickly soothed by the idiot's fat mouth.

“Mr. Stark! Sorry for barging in, sir, but we've got a present for ya.”

Oh the fool. Oh the gleeful look on his face. Tony couldn't help but be amused. He thought he'd brought the golden goose home to daddy. Poor poor fool.

“I assume you finished the job I sent you to do?” Tony asked. There was blood on Peter's suit. He'd told his men not to hold back on this one. Children were the only innocent ones. The only ones Tony would protect. That had better be the traffickers' blood and not Peter's.

The man flinched and Tony almost laughed. “Yes sir...” he said. He looked like he was going to piss his pants.

“Exactly as I asked you to?” Can you do anything right? Can you clean up your tracks?

“We uh...” He looked at his buddies. “We took care of them. Spiderman here got the kids out.”

“And then?”

“We... We-we,” he stuttered, like the blundering fool he was.

“Did you clean up your mess or not?” Tony was quickly running out of patients.

“We covered our tracks. Nothing was left behind and no one saw anything.” They all squirmed like frightened animals. They should be frightened.

“Maybe you can't keep your hands off of other people's property, but at least you can do something right.”

“Sir?”

Tony let is soak in. The moment they realized their mistake. They couldn't have been stupider. They couldn't have made a more foolish error. Tony felt a rush of predatory instinct. His spider had been compromised. He killed them all. Problem solved.

Peter fell. A small noise escaped him. Tony restrained himself from running to his side. He needed to touch him. Needed to be reassured that he was safe. But he didn't want Murdock believing anymore that he was soft for the boy. Let him think he was protecting a business interest.

He sent Murdock off. He would know what to do. Check the scene. Make sure they truly had cleaned up their mess. Check their phones. Make sure they hadn't gotten any pictures. Make sure that anyone who had seen any such pictures went missing.

He didn't miss the sound the man made as he passed. Tony wasn't clueless. So, Murdock didn't like Peter. He didn't need Murdock to like him. He just needed Peter to be safe and his wind-up ninja to do as he was told.

Peter's healing was a glorious new revelation. One that made Tony think a thousand terrible things. He could pick the boy apart and his body would put itself back together. Dark thoughts were shoved aside by the delightful look on the boy's face as he peeled away his mask. His eyes shined with pain and fear. Tony was entranced by him. His beautiful spider. His safe spider. He wanted to be the only one who could make Peter look like that.

The way his boy moaned as he took him. The sight of the blood on the floor, the smell of it in the air, Tony felt like an animal. He claimed the boy there on his couch, vowing in his mind that he would kill anyone who tried to bring him harm.

Then Peter was moaning, making sweet delicious noises. Completely submissive, completely open to be taken by him, never minding when Tony hurt him, when he went too fast or bit too hard. He wanted him to know.

“Do you see them?” My prey. My kills. Victims. “I killed them for you, Peter. They didn't deserve to touch you. They were unworthy of you. I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt you. And I won't be so quick about it next time.”

Peter only whimpered, pushed back his hips, begged with his body for more even as his beautiful eyes were locked on the macabre sight before them.

And Tony realized, “Is that what you wanted, baby? Is that what turns you on? Do you like it that Daddy can kill whoever he wants whenever he wants and no one will ever be able to stop him?” Peter gets off on it. Tony's strength. His power.

He was perfect. Tony was never going to let him go. Peter was absolute perfection.

He watched the boy sleep in his bed. This was a sacred place to Tony. A place no one saw. He never brought anyone into his apartment. Not this one anyway. He had others. But this is where he sleeps and he never brings anyone into a place he feels vulnerable.

He has a drink. And then he has a few more. He paces the length of the apartment while Peter rests. What was he doing? What the hell was he doing? Tony knew and it made him grind his teeth.

He was falling in love.

Then Peter was up, standing by the window. His arms wrapped around his heart, his love, his spider. “Stay here tonight.” Stay here in my most private place. The place I can only let you in.

“Are you asking me as a man, or as the Kingpin?”

Tony could vomit. He felt dizzy. What the hell was he doing? This was a business deal. Peter didn't love him. He got off on him. On what he had. On what he was capable of. When all of this was done, they would be enemies as they were meant to be. When the deed was done, the Kingpin would kill Spiderman to save Tony Stark's heart.

It took all of his restraint to keep the acid out of his voice. “Go home, Peter.”

Or so he thought.

He didn't know how things had gone so far that Peter had ended up in his arms that night. When Peter burst through that door with tears dried on his face, Tony's heart had soared. Because he knew that Peter was just as gone for him. He hadn't thought twice about sending the ninja from the room. His pet had nothing on the spider. It was dangerous. So so dangerous. Because he was so close to giving the boy his heart. He couldn't do that. He couldn't let himself fall in love. He had killed for him and he would do it again without hesitation, but he knew that they could never trust each other. Not while Peter's eyes were still alight with the fires of justice. With the need to be a hero.

Tony knew that justice was a broken concept. The world wasn't just. It wasn't good. Being just and good only got you beaten down and broken. That's what had happened to his mother.

She got pregnant and she tried to do the right thing and get married. She tried to give her son a fair chance. And when things got bad she tried to intervene.

“He's only a child, Howard! Please!”

“He has to learn, Maria!”

And then she'd howl and scream until he beat her, too. But it wasn't as if his mother were a saint. She was the one that provoked Howard. The one that told him when their son snuck out at night or took up smoking or drinking. She never kept his secrets, but she sure kept her own. Tony didn't think his father ever found out that Tony wasn't his.

The day came that Howard pushed Tony too far and the kid fought back. Took a belt to his own father, beat him into the floor and he kept going until Howard stopped fighting back. He left his mother screaming, sobbing into the floor as his father laid broken and bleeding out on the carpet. Tony was impressed when she told the police someone had broken in. The only time she had every protected him.

His father had taught him the most important lesson he would ever learn. Violence and power, will always get you what you want.

Sixteen and free of his father's torment, New York was Tony's play ground and he took it by storm.

But it had been twenty years since then. He looked down at Peter, laying so sweetly in his lap. He thought about all of the pain he had been through and how he turned it into power. He thought about how all of his power brought him here to a moment so tender he couldn't possibly deserve it. Looking down at the innocent face, those red eyes, lips that were always parted just so, as if he couldn't breathe when Tony was touching him; he couldn't stop now. He had to keep going. Until the city was clean and there was no one left who could ever hurt Peter. His Peter. He couldn't let him go.

Maybe he let Peter down when he insisted on killing Felicia, but the woman was a thorn in his side that had to be eradicated. Besides, he couldn't let Murdock be right about Peter making him soft. Tony knew who he was and he wasn't going to stop because Peter didn't like it.

Later, Murdock stood opposite him. If the blind man thought he couldn't see the change in him, he was a fool. Murdock had been a useful pawn for many years. He owed the Kingpin his life after all. But his expiration date was coming due. He was wearing down. It was there in the way he held himself. In the way he turned his nose up at Peter.

He was a step too close to the desk. His tone was a slight too polite. He was trying too hard. They weren't the partners in crime they had once been. Murdock was playing up the role of pet. Jealous of Tony's new favorite. Once Felicia was dealt with, he'd have to deal with Murdock next. He could become a threat to Peter.

“We've spotted her back at the gallery,” Murdock said. “She went after Parker like you expected, sir.”

He hasn't called me sir in years, Tony thought. He smirked. “Of course she did. Make absolutely certain he's clear before you take her. If he sees anything, it's your ass, Murdock.”

Murdock bowed. “Yes, sir.”

If Peter went back to the gallery, he must have seen Gwen Stacy's likeness plastered on the walls. It was disgraceful that anyone would paint her the victim. She could have torn apart every child in that high school. It may have been unintentional that Peter killed her, but he saved a lot of lives that day. And minimized the property damage.

Tony wondered if Peter had seen him there. He wondered if he was jealous. The blond hadn't meant anything to him. Someone he'd chosen at near random. He just needed word to spread that he'd taken a cute little date with him. Increase the odds that Hardy would show up. She had made her life's work to take from him only that which was most precious. No wonder Murdock was so frazzled over Peter. If that's what Hardy thought of their relationship after seeing them together once, he must have looked smitten. Maybe they were getting too close. But Tony had decided in that moment as they lay together in his bed, comfortable silence hanging between them as Peter's pain and guilt finally calmed, that he was done fighting it. Peter was his.

He let his mind get lost in thoughts of the younger man: when he first discovered the little spider, when he first saw the face under the mask, those curious moments as he picked apart every little detail of his life down to the fragrance in his shampoo, the first time they met and how his heart beat for every darling defiant syllable the boy uttered. He was taken from the start.

Before long, the door to his office opened once more. Murdock marched in, flocked by several of his Hand cronies. They dragged a young woman across the floor and despite her head being covered he knew this was the one. His heart pounded in his chest. Finally he had her: Felicia Hardy.

Murdock grinned, sinister and malicious. He uncovered the woman's face.

Hardy looked up at him, feigning a lack of amusement, but Tony could see the fear in her eyes. She hung almost limply between the ninja that held her.

“Tony, good to see you again,” she said.

He grinned. She was such a small thing to have caused him so much trouble.

“Ms. Hardy. The time has finally come for you to pay your dues,” he said.

“Don't act haughty, Stark. We're both criminals here.”

Tony nodded. He shared a look at Murdock who seemed to be enjoying himself. “I've broken some laws, sure I'll admit to that. But we are not the same are we?”

“No, you're a psychopath and a murderer.”

Tony offered her a heartless chuckle before he let his knuckles bruise her jaw. I thrilled him to watch her collapse in the arms that held her, blood running down her lip as she stared at him in hatred.

“You're a monster,” she spat.

“And I'm going to kill you,” Tony grinned. “Just like I killed your father.”

She struggled from the a moment in the ninjas' grip. “I'm not going anywhere, darling. Not until I see you lose everything.”

“My prototype, my car, and my dollar. That's a bold claim for someone who hasn't made any big moves. You want to see these walls fall around me? You'll have to do better than that, darling,” Tony smirked.

She smiled back. “This company is just a means to an end. You built these walls to protect your fragile heart.”

Tony grit his teeth, considering another punch when his phone beeped. The tracker on Peter's suit signaled that he was on his way. He glanced at the screen and saw that the boy was coming in fast. He looked at Murdock.

“Take her downstairs. If I'm not down there in twenty minutes, end this yourself.” Tony watched the window anxiously. He wasn't sure why his heart pounded with fear. Was he really scared for Peter to catch him like this? Was he really going to let Peter stop him from ending a years long vendetta? It would be unsatisfying to have Murdock do it, but the longer they held her here, the most opportunity she had to escape. He should go with them downstairs... let Peter wait. But still his heart pounded.

The door to his office was closed. They were gone. Rooted in place, Tony waited with baited breath to see Peter again. Red and blue blurred as the spider flung himself in Tony's direction.

Spiderman flipped in through the window. His feet hit the ground and he leaped knocking Tony backward. They rolled, Peter landing on top. A blow that had lights spotting in his eyes hit the side of his head.

“Why!” Peter screeched, his voice cracking with emotion.

He swung again and Tony rolled, sliding out from under him. He heard the tile floor break under Peter's fist.

“How could you, Tony? After everything!” Peter launched at him again, clumsy in his rage.

Tony dodged, but only barely. “Peter, what is it? What's wrong?” Did he know about Felicia? She wasn't dead yet... if it upset him this much... He rolled away and got to his feet.

“Don't you dare! Don't pretend like you don't know! Don't pretend it wasn't you!” He pulled his mask off. His face was pale, tear stained, dark around the eyes. Tony knew that look well. His pain went deeper than a dead acquaintance. Something was terribly, horribly, wrong. 

His blood ran cold. His stomach knotted. He reached for him. “Peter, wait-”

Peter flung out his arm and a web shot hit Tony's chest sending him back, jarring him. His head knocked against the wall with a sickly cracking sound. For moment he saw three Spidermen as they stalked towards him, eyes aflame with anger. Then they centered on Peter. His Peter.

His nose wrinkled, teeth clenched in a snarl. “I want you to look me in the eye when I kill you.”

“Please, Peter,” Tony gasped. His head was spinning. It was hard to breathe. Tony wondered if this was what it felt like to die. He wondered if his body would hold out in time for Peter close the distance between them. Only the webs that held him to the wall kept him up. His legs tingled, muscles failing. He must have hit his head pretty hard.

Peter shook his head, back and forth, like a deranged man. “I don't get it. I don't get it, Stark.”

“Peter,” Tony breathed. He struggled to recover his mind. There were pieces here that fit together. He just had to get the words out. “Peter,” he gasped again like it was the only word he knew.

Peter continued to stalk forward until his breath puffed warm against Tony's face. “No. I don't need an explanation. You're too... you get inside my head. You're a liar. Manipulator. I'm going to make you pay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I'm off to the beach for a week <3<3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a deep breath, I'm back kiddos <3
> 
> also--- this chapter gets a warning for a suicide attempt

The world spun in a blur of rapidly paling color. Every breath took conscious effort. Peter reached a hand out for his aunt, but he couldn't judge the distance between them. He watched as she crumbled, collapsing to her knees on the floor.

That's what he should do. He should be sobbing, screaming, falling. Body shaking, unnatural animal sounds escaped her lips, her fingers clawed at the tile floor as if she felt herself floating away. That's what he should be doing, Peter thought. But he only watched as if from the other end of a tunnel as May's heart broke. Then finally, his soul seemed to snap back to his body, all of this happening with a second that felt like hours.

Blinking away the shock, Peter let himself drop to the floor. He pulled his aunt against his chest and let her sob in the safety of his arms.

Ben was dead.

Dead.

Finally, pain broke through the cold emptiness and a horrified sound escaped him. He trembled, tears streaming down his face. His arms tightened around his aunt.

He had returned from Oscorp and found May in the kitchen with the phone to her ear. The concern on her face wasn't enough to foreshadow the words Peter caught from the speaker. An officer told her that Ben had been successfully transferred to a low security cell only to be found an hour later, beaten to death, his cellmate mysteriously vanished.

Peter remembered Roger and the way Stark had crushed the bones in his face until it all but exploded. His stomach churned. He pulled away from May to bend over the trash can, heaving up everything in his stomach. Then he ended up again on the floor.

“It's gonna be okay, Peter,” May whispered, no strength in her to truly speak or even stand leaving her crawling to him to hug his head to her chest. “Oh, Ben,” she sobbed, voice breaking. “My Ben.”

They sat and cried together on the floor for a long while. Eventually, May had exhausted herself enough to fall asleep in Peter's lap. Peter carried her to her bed. Then he shut the door and he put on his suit.

The bastard. He'd been played. He knew it from the beginning. The Kingpin was a selfish, murdering, prick, who had only toyed with him so he could break him down. The whole thing had been a game from the start. He sat up there in his little tower laughing as he sent Spiderman swinging off to do his dirty work. Laughing as he dared Peter to fall in love with him. And it was close, too. He was so close to letting himself fall believing that Stark actually cared enough about him to catch him. Lesson learned. Don't make deals with the devil and fall in love with him either. Well, if Stark thought he could do something like that, safe because of Spiderman's moral code, he was a fool. Because Peter was cold inside now. The second the tears had stopped, the pain had vanished. He didn't care anymore about what was right. Reality felt so far away. There was only one goal in his mind. He was going to hit Tony Stark until he stopped moving and the he was going to throw him from the roof for good measure.

He was going to pay.

Peter crossed the city in record time. The dark cityscape blurred under his feet as he rushed by. Firing web from both arms, he sling-shotted himself onto the building and slid into the window.

Stark stood there, bright smile, crisp suit, looking for all the world like he was happy to see him. Like he was proud of himself. A pang went through him as his heart threatened to break. Peter sprang into an attack. He wasn't going to let the Kingpin break what didn't belong to him.

Then he was stalking forward as Stark clung helplessly to the wall. All that power Peter had grown such a thirst for stripped away. He was babbling, whispering his name. There were tears in his eyes. But Peter knew better. Stark was a master manipulator. He was a criminal and a monster.

Peter swung, throwing his weight into it, arm blurring forward as the very limit of his strength propelled his fist forward. And into the wall.

Gritting his teeth Peter stared, face an inch away from Stark's. The man's eyes were unfocused as he stared back. His name still fell from Stark's lips like a prayer. Peter told himself the man was only begging for his life. He only wanted to lie to him again. But the fire in his heart was already growing cold. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill him. But he didn't have the strength to live in a world where Tony Stark had twisted his life into a fucked up disaster, given himself as an escape from Peter's isolation, given him so much time and affection, and then turned around destroyed him.

Uncle Ben was dead. And just like with Gwen, all of the super strength in the world wouldn't fix it.

Stark's eyes fluttered. He groaned, the sound trailing off. Then his head dropped against his chest.

Peter's heart skipped, growing cold. “Nonono, Tony,” he breathed, heart racing now.

He grabbed on to the man's shoulders and ripped him away from the wall. He carried him in his arms and laid him down on the couch. He was breathing. Pulse strong in his veins, but Peter saw now where his head was bleeding.

“No, I didn't mean to. That's not what I...” A trembling hand touched the man's cheek. Then Peter stood and leaped for the phone.

Phone to his ear, he dialed the extension for Stark's secretary. He prayed she was still in the building.

“Mr. Stark?” a feminine voice charmed before the first ring ended. So much friendlier than she was when she knew she was talking to Spiderman.

“We need a medic in Mr. Stark's office, now!” Peter ordered in a rush. He glanced at Stark on the couch, but the man hadn't moved.

“What? Where's Mr. Stark?” The secretary sounded uncertainly, likely knowing how often people were injured after entering Stark's office.

“Unconscious. Get the medic.”

“Right away,” she assured him before hanging up the phone.

Pete rushed back to Tony's side. He knelt beside the couch, watching his chest rise and fall. The device in his chest glowed almost imperceptibly through the layers of his clothes.

“I hate you,” Peter said. “Why would you do this to me? I hate you and I wish you were awake so I could tell you how much I hate you.” Tears blurred his eyes. “But I can't kill you. And I hate myself for that.”

The pain was rapidly returning and the worst part was how much Peter wanted Stark to wake up and tell him that everything was going to be okay, like he had before. “Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the monster. I just pretend to be a hero and then I end up like this. I can't even stop one bad guy. So what does that make me huh? At least everyone knows you're a villain.”

Hearing the mechanical hum of the elevator as it returned to the top floor, Peter grabbed his mask and covered his face. Then he slipped out the window. Better if Murdock didn't see him and coming chasing after him. He'd dealt with enough already. Gripping the outer wall, Peter scaled the building, climbing up to the roof.

He sat on the edge, feet dangling over the side. The wind was cool against his body. He watched the lights below travel up and down the streets. The streets he was failing to protect. Twice now he'd let his uncle down- no. Three times. He failed to protect him. He failed to be a decent person. He failed in his responsibility as Spiderman. Would Ben still say that he loved him now?

There was cold emptiness in his heart. Everything felt a million miles away, yet it was all too loud at the same time. He felt raw like an open wound, yet reality sat at the other end of a long tunnel. It hurt and it was cold. He was alone and he had failed. He was a screw up and a monster. May was all he had left and if she knew the truth... he wouldn't even have her. She'd probably throw him out on the street. It would break her heart even more if she knew that Peter was reason that Ben was dead. If he had just left Tony Stark alone like he knew he should... If he hadn't given in to his weakness...

Peter stood on the ledge. He looked down at the street. What if he fell this time and he didn't catch himself? What if he gave up?

He heard a sound behind him. Light shined out from an opening in the side of the roof. Someone crawled out from the roof access door. Peter didn't need to see their face to know who it was. His lack of spider-sense was enough. Ridiculous that it would fail him even now. Even after the bastard had killed his uncle.

“Go away, Stark,” Peter called. He turned back to look out again at the street. One step forward and it could be done.

“Peter? Peter what are you doing up here?” Stark's feet crunched against the roofing as he came closer.

“Shouldn't you be getting looked at?” He didn't look at him. He didn't want to see his face.

“I'm fine. But you're not. What happened? Peter talk to me.” Bold of him to sound so concerned.

Peter snorted. “Like you have a right to ask anything of me.”

“No, I don't. I don't know what happened tonight. I have no idea, okay? I swear, but please talk to me. What ever it is that hurt you like this, I wouldn't do this to you. You have to trust me that much.”

Peter turned his head. He looked like he was begging. Like he was scared to see Peter standing on the ledge. Like he meant it all. Liar. Bastard. Peter laughed.

“I don't trust you. I can't even trust myself.” He let his toes dangle of the ledge. What would people say when they found out that he was Spiderman? What would MJ paint then?

“Peter, come away from the ledge,” Stark said. He said calmly, like he was trying not to startle him. Like he was a child about to flush his keys to one his shiny sports cars in the toilet. That was probably as much as he cared, too.

Smiling, Peter looked at him. “How about another deal, Stark? Catch me before I hit the ground and I then I'll trust you.” And he sprung from the ledge.

Air rushed up around him. Laughter bubbled up from his chest, manic and hysterical. He looked down to see the ground rushing up to meet him. His spider-sense tingled, then burned through his nervous system. He was going to die and all he could do was laugh. His spider-sense screamed for him to catch himself.

Warmth wrapped around his bicep. Peter looked to his left and sucked in a gasp as he looked into Tony's eyes. That wicked smirk lit up his face.

“I've got you,” he said.

Peter wrapped an arm around Tony's waist. The other arm reached out, firing a web straight up to the brilliant blue letters lighting up the tower. Twelve feet from the ground, their momentum stopped. The world stopped. Reality on pause. Peter was frozen looking into Tony's eyes. Chocolate eyes that shined with humor. Confidence that made him weak.

“You jumped off a building,” was the first brilliant thing Peter thought to say.

“So did you,” Tony chuckled.

“But... but... you could have died,” Peter stammered. The world was quiet as if nothing existed outside of their embrace.

“I knew that you would catch me,” Tony said and the words reverberated through his mind.

Peter's breathing hitched. The pain was back. He clung desperately to the thread that tethered them to the building as grief overcame him.

Tony's face warmed with empathy, mouth pulled down and eyes shining. “What happened today, my spider?”

“My uncle was murdered in his cell,” Peter said. His voice didn't break, it shattered. He sobbed and Tony held him, wrapping arms around him, hand stroking his shaking back.

Holding him tightly as if he might shatter, Tony whispered, “I'm so sorry, Peter. I'm so sorry.”

“Was it you?” Peter breathed. He pulled away enough to look at the man's face.

Brow scrunched, Tony said quickly, “No. No, it wasn't me-”

“It has to be!” Peter cut him off. “No one else knew... and no one would want to hurt him. It had to be you!” His grip on the man tightened.

“It wasn't me,” Tony shook his head. He caught Peter's hand as it desperately clutched his shirt. “I swear. Let's go upstairs. I'll get my guys on it. We'll get to the bottom of this.”

Peter shook his head. He ground his teeth. Then he retracted the web, slinging them back up onto the roof. He ignored Stark until they were back in his office. Then he was pressing the man back into the wall. Tony wrapped his arms around him.

“It's gonna be okay, sweetheart.”

Peter let himself fall into the warmth of Tony's chest. Finally some of the cold receded from his body. He let himself feel safe in Tony's arms.

“It hurts. It hurts and then it's cold and then there's nothing.” He felt lost and alone. He could feel Tony trying to convince Peter to let him in and it was scary. They had almost killed themselves. And Tony wanted him to trust him. He wanted someone he could trust.

“It will get better, I promise. And I won't leave you alone.” Tony's warm tone was soothing.

Peter cuddled against the man's chest as the tears dried on his cheeks. He looked up to see Tony watching him, sadness in his eyes as if he were sharing Peter's pain. He pulled himself up, the smell of Tony's cologne familiar and comforting as he brushed against him. He pressed their lips together, letting the world around them fall away as the kiss pulled him in. He was surprised as he pushed Tony back into the wall, taking this kiss from him, that Tony didn't push back. His arms wrapped around Peter, holding him close, letting him chase down the comfort that he needed.

Peter pressed himself into the man, legs slotting together, hands around his neck. He kissed him until they were both breathless, only pulling away long enough to suck in a gulp of air before their lips met again. Heat spread from Peter's cheeks down into his chest. His hips rocked up against Tony's thigh and he pressed closer as if he intended to sink into his skin.

Tony let their lips part for only a second. “Bedroom?” he asked.

Peter nodded, panting to catch his breath. Then, Tony lead him through the secret door into the next room. Peter stumbled along as he let his suit drop off and started tugging at Tony's clothes. He saw the blood on his collar, but he didn't stop. He was too desperate to chase away all of the cold and the pain to consider Tony's head.

Stopped at the end of the bed, they stripped away the last of their clothes, fumbling blindly as they kissed. Then Peter surprised them both again by turning Tony around and pushing him back onto the bed. Cocky grin lighting up his face, Tony made himself comfortable, stretched out like a model. Peter looked him over from the shaggy mess he'd made of the man's hair, to the blue glow in his chest, to the toned muscles that sculpted his body, eyes lingering on the hardness between his legs. All just from kissing him.

Peter crawled up the bed, on top of him. He leaned down to kiss him, arms caging him in. Peter rut against Tony's hips. He shivered as his cock slid against soft skin. Tony reached a hand between them, encircling their cocks together. Peter gasped, moaning softly as he fucked the man's fist. He could feel Tony's eyes on him, watching as he rolled his hips, arching up into the sweet friction of Tony's hand, his cock hard velvet against Peter's.

“You're so beautiful, Peter,” Tony said, voice tinged with awe. Peter looked at his face, admiring the way the blue glow shined in his wide eyes.

Peter chewed his lip, looking from Tony's face. It only added to ache in his heart.

Tony cupped his cheek and turned his head back. Peter shut his eyes. “What's wrong, baby?”

Peter shook his head. His chest hurt. He needed to bury that hurt. Drive it out. He pushed himself down against Tony's chest, silencing his questions with a hungry kiss. He reached an arm out, fumbling with the nightstand. There was one way to shut his brain down and bury the pain.

He pushed away Tony's hand snaking his own down between their bodies. Tony moaned against his pressing lips as Peter coated his cock in slick lube. Then he sat up on his heels, and let his body sink down until the thickness of Tony's cock filled his ass. He took a moment, reveling in the pleasure that boiled the world down to the two warm bodies in the bed. Then he pushed his hips forward, lifting up, riding Tony's cock as they both panted.

His hands held Tony's shoulders, gripping for balance. Tony's eyes looked up at him, rich and brown and displaying a certain amount of curiosity as he watch him.

Peter dug his knees into the bed, full strength at work as he rode him just as hard and as fast as his heart was pounding. Tony moaned and swore beneath him.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “That's it. That's my little spider.”

Tony's hips bucked, his cock pressing right against his prostate, and Peter whimpered. Something flashed in Tony's eyes at the sound, then he was sitting up in the bed. His hands grabbed Peter's wrists and pulled him behind his back. His feet planted flat on the mattress so he could fuck up into him.

Peter's mouth fell open, eyes rolling in his head. “God, fuck, _please_ ,” he moaned.

“Is that what you need, baby?” Tony growled. His teeth scraped over Peter's soft neck as he slowed them both down, thrusting in deep, letting his cock sink all the way in. “Need daddy to take control?” He bit down, sucking a mark into Peter's neck. Peter whined and rocked his hips forward gasping as his aching cock rubbed against Tony's stomach. “Need daddy to show you how powerful he is?”

“Please, Mr. Stark,” Peter whined.

Tony flipped them over, pushing Peter down on his back. Peter thrilled at being manhandled and held down by his throat. Tony fucked him, filling him up just right, looking down at him with heat and hunger.

“ _My_ spider,” he growled.

“Take me,” Peter gasped, “Make me yours.” He pulled his legs up to wrap around Tony's waist. He squeezed drawing him in close.

“Oh no, baby,” Tony said. He unwrapped Peter's legs from around them, pushing them instead against his chest. “I'm in charge now.”

Peter whined as being folded in half changed the angle of every thrust, Tony's cock now pressing wholly against his prostate leaving Peter whimpering, unable to do much more than take it.

“Look at you, taking my cock,” Tony moaned. “I told you this is what you were made for. To be played with. _Fucked_.”

“Yes,” Peter agreed. “Fuck me, Mr. Stark.”

Tony drove into him, giving him everything he had, pounding his ass with his cock, making Peter whine and moan.

“That's it, little spider. Let me see you cum.”

Peter gripped Tony's biceps. He could feel it climbing. Whines and moans went higher and came in quick pants until the building tension finally snapped and he moaned with relief as he came. Tony kept fucking him through it, friction continuing past the point of pleasure until Peter was whining his discomfort as the man abused his oversensitive hole. Then they were moaning in unison as Tony came, burying his cum inside him.

Peter nestled in Tony's arms, comfortable and warm. His body hummed with the electric current of overstimulated nerves. Tony pressed a kiss to his temple and a smile stole Peter's lips. It was a good long while before reality came back to his mind. Then he was gently pushing himself away from Tony.

“I need a shower.” He didn't look in Tony's direction as he climbed off the bed.

“Bathroom's through there,” Tony pointed.

Peter left the bedroom and went in the direction indicated. If nothing else, the sex had left him feeling numb to the pain. He wasn't sure anymore how he felt or how he should feel. Even his mind felt empty as if his thoughts had fled with the pain.

He hoped the warm water would bring him clarity, but it did not. Even under the comfort of the warm spray, he still stood empty. Entirely void of anything at all. He wished he hadn't left the bed. At least there in Tony's arms he had the feeling of safety. Something he was starting to feel the opposite of the more he thought about it. Somehow he felt afraid.

What if it was Tony that killed his uncle? What if his panicked thoughts had been right? What if he should have let them both crash into the pavement?

Numbness giving way to fear, Peter stepped out of the shower and dried off.


	17. Chapter 17

Peter dragged his feet as he made his way to the living room. Tony was standing by the mini bar, having a drink. He offered Peter a full glass as he came into the room.

“Can I tempt you?” His smile was half-hearted and Peter wondered if it was his dark mood spreading like a virus.

Peter snorted. “Haven't you done enough of that already?” he grumbled, but he took the glass. He took a long drink of the honey colored liquid. It was sweet and it burned in his throat.

“I made a few calls while you were in the shower. I got it all figured out for you. I'm going to take care of this.” There was something in his eyes that was sweet, loving.

His chest hurt as he looked at him. He wanted to cry again. Why did everything have to be so painful? Worse than that, Peter was fairly certain that Tony wasn't trying to be cruel despite how it felt. His heart was so desperately reaching out to replace the love that was lost. Tony acting as if he loved him was only going to make it worse in the long run when they went their separate ways and his heart was left torn again.

“I shouldn't be here,” Peter breathed. “You're no good for me. For all I know...” _you killed my uncle,_ his mind finished for him. “I was a fool to f-” Peter shook his head. “To think I could trust you at all.”

Tony's expression of admiration turned to one of panic, reaching for Peter before he could turn away. “Peter, wait please, just listen to me. It was Murdock,” he paused and took a breath, eyes closing for just a moment. “It wasn't me it was Murdock. He's gone rogue. He planted a guy in the prison where your uncle was headed and then all he had to do was wait. I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Peter please believe me.” Tony set his glass down and both hands held Peter's stiff shoulders.

“Murdock...” Dazed, Peter couldn't feel Tony's hands on him.

“It wasn't me, Peter. I swear,” Tony said, but he was standing on the other side of that tunnel. Somewhere far away in the realm of reality that was beyond Peter's mental reach.

Murdock. Why would Murdock kill Ben? No. Murdock had plenty of reasons to kill Ben. At least, he had all the reasons he needed. He hated Peter. He was jealous. He probably wasn't too thrilled about having a hero type break up their murderous fun. The way Murdock always looked at him, mocked him. He should have known.

“I believe you,” Peter said. His body wanted to collapse under the strain that the guilt of it all caused him. This was all his fault. He caused this. “Where is he now?”

“I don't know. Believe me if I did he'd be dead already.” Tony took his hands away and finished off his glass.

Somehow it warmed him that Tony would do that for him. That he would kill Murdock for him. But that wasn't what Peter wanted. “No. I want to do it myself.”

Tony blinked, setting down his glass. “Are you sure?”

Peter looked at him sincerely. “Wouldn't you?” he asked.

“We're not the same, Peter. You're stronger than I am.”

Peter rolled his eyes. He sounded ridiculous. “You don't mean that.”

But Tony argued. “Yes I do,” he said.

“I threw myself off a roof today,” Peter argued. “That's not very strong.”

Tony's hands took Peter's. Peter found himself overwhelmed by the sincerity of the man's gaze. “You had the strength to protect me. And you have the strength to keep going now. I know you do.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of killing?”

“It's not who you are, Peter. Don't let that son of a bitch break you. You're stronger than people like us.”

“Maybe I'm just evolving. I get it now, what you do. There are some evils that can't be stopped by prison bars.”

Peter shook off Tony's hand. He took his drink and he sat down, curling his legs up to his chest, sinking into the plush softness of an armchair. He finished off his drink with a quick swallow and set the glass down on the table beside him.

Tony crossed the floor, but Peter stopped him with a glare. “I hate you. This is all your fault.”

“I told you-”

“Maybe it wasn't your idea, but all of this is still on you. You saw a hopeless situation and you took advantage, like you always do. You see people in need and you step on them. And someone always ends up dead don't they? If it had to be someone. It should have been me.”

“Peter, don't say that.”

Peter laughed bitterly. “You don't get to tell me what to do anymore. I think Murdock proved today that you're not as powerful as you think you are. You can't control him and you can't control me.”

Peter stood and stalked away to the wide windows. The lights of the buildings below kept the darkness of a moonless night from penetrating the area below the roof tops. For a moment, fury threatened to overtake him, but guilt came in to stop it in his tracks. He wasn't wrong about what he said, but it didn't feel right either. Murdock had acted on his own out of his own selfishness and cruelty. Maybe he was to blame for getting himself into this situation or maybe Tony was, but only Murdock could be blamed for the death of his uncle.

His footsteps were heavy and slow as Tony joined him at the window. He expected Tony's arms to wrap around him as they had once before, but maybe his previous rejection had burned deeper than Peter expected it to. He stood to his right, only inches away. They both stood quietly, the air settling as the tension calmed.

“We can change things, Peter,” Tony said, almost whispering. “We can make this world whatever we want it to be. People like Murdock don't get to break us.”

“You say that like you're not like him. Like you wouldn't kill someone's uncle to get what you want.”

Tony gave a short laugh. “Jokes on him. He's not getting what he wants.”

“What does he want? What was the point of it all?” He looked over at Tony. The man looked out through the glass, watching the skyline.

“He wanted me to kill you, Peter. He expected survival instinct to overpower my feelings for you. He expected me to kill you so you wouldn't kill me.”

“What?” _My feelings for you_. Peter was stunned, but he couldn't mean that. He couldn't mean that he... that he loved Peter enough that he would let Peter kill him.

“I know you meant to kill me, Peter,” Tony smiled. “I'm glad you didn't. We can make that son of a bitch pay. You're mine. And no one is ever going to hurt you without hearing from me.”

Peter swallowed. His blood was ice cold, but there was heat in his belly. “What are you saying?”

Tony turned from the glass to meet his eye. Peter felt secured by his gaze. “I want you to be mine, Peter. Just mine. No more deals. No more games.”

Peter's mind was alight with flashing red warning signs. _Danger_ “I think you're just looking for a new pet now that yours is gone with the wind.”

Tony ignored the deflection. “Be mine. Be my partner, in every way.”

“You're still coming down from that orgasm,” Peter searched for an excuse.

“Maybe. But I can't honestly say that I ever stop thinking about you. I would let this whole city burn for you. I would give up everything.”

It hurt. Peter was so close to falling. He was dizzy. He felt as if the chance to finally breathe again were so close, but he had good reason to keep his distance. “I can't trust anyone. People leave and people die. And I have May, but I can't be honest with her... I don't have anyone...”

“You can have me. We can have each other. I can't take the back and forth anymore. All of this trying not to feel anything for you, it's bullshit. I've never denied myself anything. And I've never wanted anything more than you.”

Peter shook his head. “You don't... you can't mean that.”

Tony caught Peter's head in his hands. “I know it's scary, dear. We can do this if it's what we both want. We'll take a leap of faith and we'll make it together. We're the only ones we have to trust. It's us against the world. You and me, Pete.”

Peter put his hands over Tony's. And he took a leap of faith. “I love you,” he breathed. He looked into those eyes that melted for only him.

Tony smiled. And he caught him. “I love you, Peter,” he answered back.

 

\-----------

Tony was there at the funeral. He stood behind Peter as he and May said their goodbyes. Guilt clenched in Peter's gut as he looked at the grave. Tears fell in unending streams down his face. He watched the casket recede into the ground. Closing his eyes he made a promise to his uncle.

_Murdock will pay for this. And anyone else who had a hand in it._

May placed a gentle hand on his tense shoulder. He met her eye and she gave him a soft squeeze. They both turned and her arm wrapped around his shoulder. Peter let her love ground him where he threatened to sway on his feet. He looked at Tony and the feeling of stability increased.

“So,” May looked the man over. “You're not who I expected when Peter said he was bringing someone.”

Peter couldn't help but admire the way his aunt was capable of shifting her grief aside to round on Tony.

“Tony Stark,” he offered his hand. “And you must be one and only May Parker that Peter speaks of with such love.”

He was charming, but May wasn't swayed. Still, she shook his hand. “There are a lot of rumors about you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smiled. “Let me assure you that your son has seen nothing but love and the greatest care from me.”

May blushed. “Peter's not... well, I'm not his mother.”

“Then why am I so intimidated by that lioness gaze?” Tony winked. “No, I know Peter's your nephew. But it's thanks to you and your husband, if you'll accept my condolences, that Peter is the incredible man that he is.”

Still blushing, May smiled, the expression fully reaching her eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. Ben would be proud to hear you say that.”

Peter's blood was cold for a moment, until Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders from the other side. Then he was safe and warm between the two people he loved most in the world.

“I'd like to take you both to lunch, if you're interested. I understand if you'd rather go home and rest,” Tony said.

“That would be nice,” May answered. “I think it would be good for me to get out of that house. What do you think, Pete?”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “Lunch sounds good.”

The got into one of Tony's cars, the three of them together. It was strange sitting between Tony and May. For all Peter knew, this was the car they'd taken after the gala... The would make for a good ice breaker right? Hey May, this is where Tony once held a gun to my head and made me ride him. Funny story, right? His cheeks must have pinked at the thought because he caught Tony giving him a look.

Then they arrived, the car pulling up to the curb in front of an Italian restaurant. Tony slipped out and opened the door for May. Peter smiled to see him trying so hard to make a good impression on his aunt, which so far seemed to be working. Even with the gloom overhanging, they were both able to let small smiles play on their lips as Tony payed them both adoring attentions.

The inside of the restaurant was a surprise. The place appeared as though it brought in more money than the exterior boasted. The wall were decorated with golden mirrors, grape vines, a hand painted mural of the Grand Canal of Venice.

The place was quiet, soft music playing over the speakers and low conversation made from a calm atmosphere. The host led them away from the front where Tony had obviously cleared half the place out. You couldn't see or hear the other diners from the room they were in.

Peter sat next to May, across from Tony. He could sense the grief weighing on her even as she tried to keep that slight smile on her face. He wanted to tell her that was okay for her to cry and scream and fall apart, but they had both done so much of that. They were grieving, but they had settled into a calm. It was storm clouds without the rain.

A smiling man in a black and white suit came out of the back. Peter thought he recognized him as one of Stark's men. One of his personal security. The man opened his arms clearly expecting a hug.

“Tony!” he greeted with a wide smile.

Tony smiled and stood up. He let the man pull him into a tight hug. “Happy, good to see you.”

“You've really gotta call me in more. I saw your number and I thought- but this nice!” Happy smiled at May and Peter. “It's good to meet you two.” He offered his hand. “Happy Hogan.”

“May Parker.” May shook the man's hand and Peter was weirdly uncomfortable with how long the touch lingered. He hoped he didn't have an odd look on his face as he introduced himself.

“I call you in plenty, what do you mean?” Tony said, returning to the comment once the introductions were done.

“I love being here, I love this place, but I gotta say you're really forcing this retirement thing. I gotta get out more, see some action,” Happy babbled.

“Retirement?” May asked and Peter did not like it.

“Uh huh, yeah,” Happy nodded, offering half a shrug as he looked at Tony. “I work for Tony. Security stuff, he's an important man.”

“Happy is my head of security. Which is something that he can do just fine here, also managing this fine establishment.”

“Do you get into a lot of danger, Mr. Stark?” May asked, pointedly not looking at Peter so as not to seem like a pesky chaperon.

“Absolutely not, that's why I don't need Happy playing the part of my shadow the way he likes to.”

“So what, this is a punishment?”

“It's a promotion.”

“Gee thanks, it doesn't feel like one.”

“Ya know we've been here ten minutes and Ms. Parker still doesn't have a drink,” Tony said quickly. “Can you handle that before I fire your entire wait staff? Can you do that for me?” 

“Yep, I'm on it,” Happy answered, shooting May a smile which she answered in kind.

“Great, thanks,” Tony said as Happy hurried away, clearly dismissed.

Peter looked at May, then cut his eyes toward the door to the kitchen. May caught his look and rolled her eyes.

“Stop it, Peter.” She looked at Tony. “He always gets so jealous.”

“We just buried him,” Peter grumbled.

“Peter!” May gave him a wide-eyed look. “He was just being friendly. It's nice. I could use a little friendly. It's been a hard week.” She sighed. “With the both of us... grieving. It's nice to talk to someone who isn't as gloomy.”

“Sure,” Peter pouted.

“Happy's just like that, dear,” Tony reached across the table and took Peter's hand and instantly calmed and them panicked all in the same moment.

Tony had been his secret. His _sin_ for so long. And now here he was calling him pet names and holding his hand in front of May. She had that small smile on her face again as she looked over the menu. Maybe it was okay. Maybe she approved. Peter wasn't sure he wanted that. As much as he decided he didn't care anymore if Tony was the Kingpin, May was a good person. He wanted to keep her away from Stark's bloody hands. But the truth was, the safest place for her was here next to Tony. Because what she didn't know was that the place was being guarded, not only from the street, but from the roof. Peter could hear the fair sound of Tony's men talking up there. They were safest with Tony. Safe from Murdock.

Peter's superior hearing caught the buzz of Tony's phone. He was subtle as he looked down into his lap to check the message, May oblivious.

“If you'll excuse me a moment,” he said as he stood, pushing his chair in. “I have something I've been meaning to ask Happy.”

“Of course,” May said.

“Should I-” Peter started to stand.

“I'll just be a moment.”

Peter watched him go into the back. He leaned in his chair to see him up until the door shut.

“You to are very close,” May said. She put her menu down. “How long has this been going on?”

“Uh...” Peter didn't know what to say. He felt like he should hide exactly how long it had been. He had been lying to her all that time after all. Calling her saying he was held up at work or studying for an exam. Plus the time lined up so neatly with Ben being arrested... “A few months.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“You know all the things Ben always said about Tony Stark. He's a murderer and an arms dealer and all that. I didn't what either of you to be disappointed to me.”

“Sweetie,” May touched his cheek. “I'm not going to pretend I'm worried. I am. I'm kind of mad, too. But you're also kind of bad at keeping secrets. I knew you had been acting weird for a long time. Sneaking out at night. Of course, you've always done that and I thought... well. Anyway, I wish you wouldn't hide things from me.”

Peter was relieved. Let her believe that was his secret. That he was dating a man known to the public as a philanthropist and known to the underground as the most powerful man in New York. Not that he had been part of criminal activity for the sake of protecting his family.

“I'm sorry.”

There was little smile again. She leaned over and hugged. “I'm not going to ask you if any of that stuff is true. I just need you to be careful. I've seen mobster movies,” she lowered her voice. “People like that can do some awful things.”

“I'm not worried, but I'll keep an eye out for any mobsters,” Peter smiled.

May rolled her eyes. “You do that.”


	18. Chapter 18

Tony came back to the table after a few minutes. May gave him a friendly smile over the rim of her glass as she worked on her iced tea. Peter looked at him with anxiety. Sure, it could have been any old work related call, but they were waiting for info related to Murdock to crop up. Tony was confident his people would find something sooner or later. So far, there was no word. That could have been it. That could have been the call they were waiting for.

Then Tony sat down and gave Peter a slight shake of his head. Nothing. Peter sighed quietly and sat back in his chair. The sooner it was all done the sooner he could feel like he had his life back.

“So, what's everyone ordering?” Tony said, conversationally. He shared a pleasant look with May. “I know the lasagna here is exceptional.”

“You know I was thinking that sounded good,” May said, glancing at her menu.

Peter sat up and picked up his own menu, trying to seem interested, but he didn't feel very much like eating. The conversation about food droned on around him without fully reaching his ears. For a moment he had been hopeful that they had found Murdock and now the feeling was gone. He wanted it over. He wanted the man dead.

He hardly noticed when the waitress came to the table to take their orders.

“Peter?” May asked. Her hand touched his arm then went for a sympathetic squeeze. Peter blinked at her, coming back to the moment. “Do you know what you want?”

He looked at Tony, instinctively reaching for an escape. He felt safe again as their eyes met. Tony nodded and smiled at the waitress.

“He'll have the same as me,” he said.

The young woman nodded and smiled and hurried away to the kitchen.

May's hand rubbed across his shoulders. “We're gonna be okay, Pete,” she said, gentle loving voice. Peter was so grateful to her. The problem was that all of the lies had created a distance between them. He didn't feel as comforted by her as he once would have. Still, she was May so he offered her half smile to say he was okay.

They made it through the rest of the meal with long silent pauses and brief but cheery conversations lead by Tony which seemed to perk May up quite a lot. Maybe it would be good for her to make friends with Happy. At least then, Peter would know she had someone safe to be around. Having Tony's most trusted security staff hanging around would be the safest thing besides moving her directly into Stark tower.

They hadn't planned for a wake. Yet there was a man waiting at their front door as the car pulled up to the curb. May tried to hide her little sigh, but nothing missed Peter's ears. He slid out beside Tony and opened the door for her. They walked together to greet that man that waited for them. Peter wasn't all that surprised to see that it was none other than Officer Stacy, Gwen's father.

“It's good to see you, May,” he said. He pulled the woman into a hug. “I'm so sorry.”

May nodded her head. “Thank you, George.”

“Peter,” the man nodded in greeting.

“Good to see you, Officer Stacy.” He couldn't help the way his body pulled away from the man as if he couldn't keep enough distance between them.

“I wanted you to know, May,” he specified as though Peter weren't included in his sentiments, “You and Ben were there for me when what happened... happened with Gwen and with Helen... I want to be here for you, too. Anything you need.”

“That's very kind, thank you,” May said.

Stacy offered her a polite smile. “Also, a couple of people came by. They said they knew you didn't want company, but they wanted to bring food anyway. I have it all over at my place since you weren't home. I'll bring it over.”

The man walked away to get the food he had mentioned. May nudged Peter and will a roll of his eyes he dragged himself across the grass and into the Stacy residence. Stacy jumped as he spotted him coming in the door from the corner of his eye. He reached into the fridge, stacking plates and bowls up on the counter. Peter ignored him and starting picking things up.

“I am sorry about your loss, Peter,” Stacy mumbled.

“You're sorry that Ben's dead or you're sorry that I'm grieving? Those are two different things, Officer Stacy,” Peter snapped.

Stacy sighed. He pulled himself out of the fridge to look at him. “I don't blame you for what happened.”

“No, you just look like you're reaching for your gun every time you see me because you're twitchy.”

“If I blame anyone it's that Osborn kid.”

“Oh here we go,” Peter rolled his eyes. “It's always Harry's fault.”

“He was the one coming over here to help her with that 'science project'! He knew what she was doing and he didn't stop her. He didn't tell anyone how dangerous it was!” He slammed the fridge shut, hands balling into white knuckled fists.

“If it had worked properly it could have improved countless lives,” Peter tried to reason. “I know Harry and I know that's what he was thinking of.”

Stacy shook his head, growing red in the face. “No! He's just like his father. Greedy, corrupt. There's no telling how many bodies he's responsible for. My little girl wasn't the first and she won't be the last!”

“I've heard enough.” Peter gathered the rest of the food in his arms and marched for the door, peering around the tall stack. He left the man bent over the kitchen counter as if his legs couldn't hold him.

“Where's George?” May asked, unlocking the front door.

Peter hurried past her to set the food down. “I don't think he can handle it,” he said. “He's still grieving himself.”

May nodded, lips pressed tight together. “I wish there was something we could do for him.”

Peter looked at her, admiring her big heart. “Let's focus on us for now.”

“Are you staying?”

“Do you need me to?” Peter chewed his lip. He didn't want to be here. Not when Tony was waiting outside to take him somewhere with fewer painful memories.

“No, no, you go. I'll be okay. I certainly have plenty to eat.”

“I can stay if you need me.” He didn't want to, but he would.

May smiled. “That's okay, Peter.” She grabbed on to his shoulders and gave him a tight hug. “I don't know if that Tony Stark is a good man, but he seems decent enough. You should go. Let someone take care of you for a change. You don't have to be responsible for everyone else all the time.”

Peter hugged her back tighter. “Thanks, May. I'm just a call away if you need anything.”

Hands cupping his face, she smiled at him. “It'll be alright.”

Peter pressed his forehead to hers. The moment felt out of place, like it belonged in another time, but it felt good. Sharing a moment of love between them.

Peter slipped up to his room to grab a bag before hurrying out the door. Tony was waiting.

There he was, the man of his dreams and even of his nightmares. Tony leaned against the side of the shiny black car, patient and cool in his black and white suit. Sunglasses covered his eyes, his hands were in his pockets. He had a way of simply existing that was sexy. As Peter looked at him, he felt that his heart beat only for this man. Sadness and grief felt miles away. There was no pain as Tony wrapped him in a hug that was made to cast shadows away.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Tony asked.

Peter looked up at him, a smile on his face. “I will be.”

A smile crossed Tony's face as well. He turned just slightly to grab the door handle and opened it for Peter. They slid inside, one after the other. Tony wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders and held him close.

“With your permission,” Tony said. “I'm going to ask Happy to make friends with your aunt. Respectful friends, of course. I think it would be best to keep her close.”

Peter nodded. “That's a good idea. Plus, I was thinking she might be lonely. She doesn't go out as much as she used to and with no one home...”

“You're not planning on being home?”

Peter shrugged. “I don't know. When I'm there I just want to be with you. I know it's selfish and May needs me... I'm just tired of everything in my life being painful.”

Tony pulled him over and placed a kiss on his temple. “I understand. I'll give Happy her number. Does she like movies, bingo night, sushi?”

“We used to go ice skating a lot,” Peter offered.

“I'll make a date suggestion. A friendly date.”

Peter rested his head against Tony's solid body. His arm wrapped around him was warm and strong. “We should go on a date,” he said quietly. He caught Tony's smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Should we? Where should we go?”

Peter giggled. “We could do coffee.”

Tony laughed with him. “You'd like to see me in a hipster cafe sipping something blended with whipped cream on top?”

“That's the dream,” Peter laughed. “We could do things like movies and ice skating and sushi. I'm, gonna pass on bingo night, though.”

“What ever you want, little spider,” Tony said.

“We should wait, though. Until this is done. I don't want it to get in the way.”

“Peter,” Tony sighed. “I...” he hesitated, looking away through the tinted window. “I want you to understand something.”

The man tensed and Peter sat up to look at his face. It was unusual to see Tony Stark of all people looking so hesitant and uncertain. Like he was afraid to speak his mind.

“Mathew Murdock isn't your every day shit head.” Tony finally met Peter's eye, expression resolved. “He grew up in some secret cult in the mountains in Japan. He's trained well in how to slip through the small cracks. He knows how to run and how to hide just as well as he knows how to kill. He wasn't my best man because he was cold-blooded, it was because he was impossible to catch. If anyone could catch him, and I say 'if', then it would be me, but I want you to know that there's a chance we'll never find him. Not unless he wants to be found.”

Peter sighed and leaned back into Tony's side. “I understand, but we have to try,” he said. After a moment of thought he asked, “Do you have anything that he wants? Something we could draw him out with?”

Tony smiled. “You want what? A hostage? Want to dangle his family over a roof top until he comes out of whatever hole he's hiding in?”

Peter caught himself wanting to curl up in shame, but he didn't. If he was going to do this, then he couldn't be afraid to step into the shadows. “I want... whatever it takes to get to him.”

Tony's hand rubbed his side. “He doesn't have anything like that. Reason number two that he's such a good killer. Murdock doesn't have friends or family or lovers. It's why we got along as well as we did. We were all we had.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Miss him? Hell no. I knew what I was doing when I traded him for you. Murdock was a convenient friend, but you're everything, Peter.” Peter smiled, hiding his blushing cheeks in Tony's ribs. “How are you doing, by the way?”

“It doesn't hurt so much,” Peter said quietly. His fingers traced soft lines over Tony's thigh seeking to comfort his mind. “I don't think I can have closure without finding Murdock, but mostly, I feel numb to it now. Like it's far away. I don't like feeling so empty, but it's better than when it hurts.” Like the two days he spent at the tower, sobbing into Tony's chest and refusing every meal. Now there was nothing.

“I'll do anything for you,” Tony said, low and gentle. “Tell me what you need to make it better.”

A soft smile played on Peter's lips. He sat up and found Tony's shoulders, pulling himself into his lap. He pressed a kiss to the side of Tony's neck, delighted when he shivered. Then he kept going, in a line until their noses touched. “I need you,” he breathed. “I need you to make me yours.”

Fear and excitement burned in his stomach. It was new territory for Peter to initiate things, to ask for it so boldly. He might have done it when he was grieving, that night when there was nothing but pain, but he wasn't himself then. Of course, everything about Tony came with a bit of intimidation. He was a dangerous man.

Tony's hands wrapped around him, palms sliding up his back. One hand gripped the back of his neck. Peter could see the way his eyes darkened as Tony's tongue slipped out to wet his lips.

“You are mine,” he said, his grip on his neck squeezing. “Always.” He tilted Peter's head back to kiss a line down his throat. Peter's fingers dug into Tony's shoulders, feeling unsteady. The hand that wasn't holding his neck exposed, slipped down to untuck Peter's shirt. It slipped underneath and Peter shivered as it brushed over bare skin.

“Is this the suit I bought you?” Tony hummed thoughtfully.

Peter laughed, breathlessly. “As if I could afford anything this nice.”

He felt Tony's smile against his skin, then the scrape of his teeth which stole a gasp from his lips. “There's going to be more. A lot more.”

“Suits?”

“Clothes, jewelry, everything. I'm going to mark you.”

“I'm all yours, Mr. Stark.” The hand on his neck squeezed, thumb putting pressure against his throat, as Tony bit into his skin. Peter whimpered, breath leaving him in a gasp. He moaned, pain radiating from the bite as surely as pleasure. “All yours,” he gasped.

Releasing his teeth, Tony turned, putting Peter on his back against the seat of the car. He kissed him, slotting himself between the boy's spread legs. Peter pressed his body up flush with Tony's only to be pressed back down by the weight of him. His hands reached up to touch him only to be pinned against the door above his head. His body ached to touch Tony's, frantic kisses weren't enough. Peter whined with each breath he took.

“So desperate,” Tony chuckled. “My needy little spider.”

Peter wrapped his legs around Tony's waist. “Yes, yours. All yours,” he whined. “Please, Mr. Stark.”

Tony kissed him again, hot and hungry. Peter felt it this time when the engine cut off as the car stopped. He heard the driver's door slam. Peter tensed, eyes cut up to where the door would open.

“Relax, sweetheart. I told them to leave us alone when we're like this.”

Peter blushed at the thought of that conversation, but he calmed. Tony held him pinned, kissing him stupid for a moment longer.

“Upstairs,” he said. Peter nodded. Tony climbed off of him and let Peter sit up. Then he followed the younger man from the car. The garage was empty. They crossed the floor, unwatched, as Peter pulled Tony along to the elevator. He pressed the button and they stepped inside.

Peter giggled as he pushed Tony back against the wall and pressed their lips together. Tony smiled against his kiss. Greedy hands palmed Peter's ass, pulling them closer together. They rode the elevator up to the top with bodies and lips locked together. Tony lead them blindly from the elevator all the way into the bedroom.

Tony pushed Peter back onto the bed, pinning him under his larger form. Peter reached up, pushing off Tony's blazer and pulling off his tie. Blindly, he fumbled with the buttons of his skirt as Tony kissed him. Having bared Tony's chest to see the blue glow of the arch reactor, Peter pushed against the man's shoulder, turning them over to straddle Tony's hips. He tossed aside his own own jacket and tie, catching his breath as Tony helped with his shirt. Then Tony was stripping him bare and pushing him down onto his back. His kisses trailed down from his lips, over his throat, his chest. His lips pressed against the inside of Peter's thigh.

“I love you, Peter,” Tony breathed against his skin.

Peter shivered. He moaned as Tony's mouth found his cock. His tongue swiped up the length of it before he took it into his mouth. Peter's back arched, mind melting at the feeling. Tony pushed a hand against his hip to lay him back down. Then he was sucking him into his throat.

“Oh god, Tony,” Peter moaned. His fingers dug into the bedding, clawing into the sheets. “Oh _fuck_.” He whined as Tony sucked him, working his tongue around the sensitive flesh. He never seemed to choke when Peter's hips bucked, his hand doing little to pin him down against Peter's strength.

“Fuck, Tony. I'm gonna cum,” Peter panted.

Tony pulled off of his cock, tongue dragging up the length. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Peter whined. “No, please.”

Tony chuckled looking up at wide pleading eyes. “Don't worry, baby. I'll let you get off eventually.”

Peter stared down at that handsome smirking face between his legs. “So mean,” he whined.

“You know I could be a lot meaner.” Tony kissed the inside of his thigh, then his teeth were digging in, biting until Peter squealed.

“Tony, please,” Peter whined some more. His hand reached down for the man and Tony caught it, tangling their fingers together.

“Please what, my love?”

Peter sighed, a small smile on his face. “Anything... I don't care. Just keep touching me.”

Tony smiled. “It would be my greatest pleasure.” He took Peter's legs and bent them up toward his chest, sinking down on the bed. Spreading him open, Tony ran his tongue over the boy's opening. Peter shivered, gasping. Tony kept licking, sucking, pressing his tongue just inside the tight rim. Peter keened, hands fisting in the sheets.

“Tony,” he moaned. “Feels so good. Your mouth, Tony. Oh my god. _Fuck_.”

Tony chuckled. “I never noticed you had such a filthy mouth.” He looked up to see chewed red lips and wide pupils. His strong chest was heaving.

“Please fuck me.”

“Not yet.” Tony went back down between his legs. His tongue lapped over his already spit slick hole making Peter whine.

“Please,” he begged. “Feels so good, Tony, please.”

Tony grabbed him and flipped him over reaching a hand up to pull back on his curls. “You're a greedy little slut, you know that? But I'll give you what you want, baby.” He turned Peter's head to the side giving him a deep and filthy kiss. Then he shoved the boy down onto his belly, reaching over him to find the lube.

Cock slicked and bottle tossed side, Tony's hands held Peter's hips. “This what you want, baby?” He rubbed the slick head of his cock against Peter's hole.

He whined, putting his head down against the sheets.

Tony pulled him back up. “Don't get shy on me now, little spider. Let me hear you.”

“Please,” he said, voice quiet, but his body leaned back in Tony's direction.

“Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you.”

“Please,” he whined. “Fuck me please, Mr. Stark. Need you to fuck me, own me.” Peter chewed his lip, shining eyes looking over his shoulder at the man behind him.

“Fuck, Pete,” Tony groaned. He took his cock and pushed inside, both moaning as he slid in deep. He leaned over Peter's back, a hand curling around his throat. “You _are_ mine. You belong to me. My little spider.”

Peter moaned, helpless under Tony as he fucked him. “My spider, my Peter,” Tony purred into his ear.

“All yours,” Peter gasped. His fingers curled around Tony's wrist, but he didn't pull the hand away from his throat. He liked the pressure, the threat. His ability to breathe caught under Tony's palm.

“Listen to you,” Tony moaned. “Such a slut for me.”

“Only for you,” he whined. “Use me.”

Tony pulled out, shoving him over onto his back. Peter moaned when he pushed back inside, the sound caught up in Tony's kiss. He moved slowly, pushing in deep, drawing high gasps and whines from Peter's lips. Peter let his hands slide over the muscle of Tony's back, nails biting into skin as he picked up the pace.

“Gonna cum inside you, baby,” Tony said in his ear.

“Please, Tony,” Peter said, pulling him back in for another kiss. He keened, feeling Tony's hand find his cock, wrapping around the length, pumping him quick.

“Cum with me.”

Peter moaned at the request. He looked up at rich brown eyes full of love, of pleasure, of happiness and he moaned again as he came, smiling to hear Tony moan above him, his weight leaning heavier against him until he rolled to the side and pulled Peter into his arms.

He nuzzled his face into the back of Peter's neck. “I would kill for you,” he sighed.

Peter laughed. “You already have, you animal.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony yawned. “Who else do you want me to kill? Whatever you want, my dear.”

“Right now, I just want to sleep.”

“Yeah or we can do that, too.”

Peter could feel Tony's head growing heavy against him. He smiled to himself. “Goodnight, Tony.”


	19. Chapter 19

The sun was already high in the sky when Peter woke. He could just seem a beam of light slipping in through the heavy curtains. He groaned. He didn't want to wake up. Being awake was a nightmare anymore. And worst of all, he needed to be getting back to school soon. Of course, Tony had made plenty of calls to make sure his teachers would help him catch back up, but he'd quit his job at the bodega uncertain if he'd ever be able to smile at another hot dog munching customer. It was stupid, of course, he couldn't leave his debts for May to handle, especially not now. Peter almost laughed. He could just ask Tony couldn't he? Surely the richest man in New York could cover Peter's loans without making a dent in his bank account. Some part of him balked to even think it.

There was soft sound coming from the next room. Wrapped in blankets, Peter could hear it. The quiet hum of someone talking low on the phone. Tony, speaking as if he didn't want to wake him. Or as if he didn't want him to hear. Still pitying himself, but too curious not to, Peter slid out of bed, taking the entire duvet with him.

“I'm going to ask you one last time if you're sure,” Tony growled into the mic of his cell phone.

“That's that then. Find him. Tell me the moment you have eyes on him. Your team are the only ones allowed in on this understand? No one else is to be trusted with this.” He ended the call. Back stiff, Tony stared out the tall windows at the sky line.

Peter slipped out of the bedroom to join him, blanket dragging over the floor.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Tony greeted. A fond smile lit up his face. Peter let Tony wrap him in his arms. He realized he never had to say anything. He didn't have to ask. They could just stay like this. Tony wouldn't tell him if he didn't ask. They could spend the day together and Peter could go back to class tomorrow and he could just forget.

But he asked, “did they find him?”

Tony nodded. He kissed Peter's forehead. “Are you sure you don't want me to handle it?”

Peter looked hard into those dark eyes. He wondered what Tony would think of him when it was done. When his hands were bloody, too. “Who?”

“Aleksei Sytsevich. The Hand calls him 'Rhino'.”

Peter nodded, turning away to the window. “He's one of the Hand?” Anxiety clenched his throat. It had been so much easier to want blood when he was talking about a hypothetical situation. This was a real person. The real person who had beat his uncle to death. For a moment, Peter saw red.

“He is.” Tony's hands found his shoulders. “When my men catch up to him, I'll take you to him.”

“I need to do this on my own. I don't want you to be there...” He didn't want Tony there. All the blood on Tony's hands, it was different. It was the blood he built his success on. This was personal. It would change him. He wouldn't be the same person when it was done.

“Peter.” Tony turned him around, holding his face between his hands. “Whatever happens, we made a promise to each other. This is what's waiting for us at the end of the day.” He smiled. “If you think I'm going to look at you any differently because you've killed a man, then you don't know what you mean to me.” He kissed him and Peter smiled.

“Tell me you do know how to kill?” Tony laughed.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it's all the things I avoid doing to the point of almost getting myself killed.” All things I did to Gwen...

“Good.” Tony kissed his forehead, then his temple, his cheek, his throat, until he couldn't seem to stop.

Peter sighed, a happy smile on his face. He let the moment linger only a second. “Stop it, you're distracting me from my vengeance.”

“Oh you'll have it, baby. You'll have whatever you want,” Tony said, voice dropping low, breathy. Peter let him lead him back into the bedroom, duvet left forgotten on the floor. It was two hours later, staring up at the ceiling, head resting on Tony's shoulder while he traced the metal housing of the device in Tony's chest, that he thought again about the Rhino.

“Your men? They don't know where he is?” He looked deep into the blue glow and found that it pulsed, ever so slightly, like a second heart beat.

“They'll call the moment they do,” Tony assured him. “And then what are you going to do?”

“And then I'm going after him. No time to waste.” Tony's arm tightened around him. “You don't want me to?”

“I don't want you to become someone that you can't respect. I want you to think carefully about this. You can't take it back once it's done.”

“I know.” Peter smiled. He kissed the spot between Tony's collarbones. “And I know you'll be here for me when I get back to help me work it all out.”

Tony picked up Peter's hand where it rested on his stomach hand and kissed his knuckles. He smiled when Peter's palm rested on his cheek. They were caught up in each other's eyes when the phone rang.

It was a short call. Then Peter was in the suit, swinging through the city. He spotted one of Tony's cars on the street below. Landing on the roof across the street, he scanned the bare windows for his target: a tall man with gray skin and blue hair. Not a common sort of face in any corner of New York. He wasn't hard to find either. Peter caught the sound of raucous laughter and followed it. There was Aleksei. He sat at a table with several other men, all laughing and talking. They were having some kind of party.

Peter grit his teeth as he stared in through the window. It was disgusting. His uncle's funeral was only a day ago and the monster that killed him was laughing over what looked like a take-out box of dumplings. His blood boiled. This was wrong. This was the truth of the city he loved. That underneath the surface, all the innocent citizen, men like this laughed while the blood of their victims dried under their fingernails. This was what Tony had been saying all along. New York is worth saving, but it will never be clean as long as people like Aleksei Sytsevich lived.

But now wasn't the time.

There were too many people in the room. The building itself was over crowded. With the Rhino's strength, they would end up knocking each other through the wall, people would get hurt. No, he had to wait. It hurt to wait, but he wouldn't be the cause of more suffering. Not when he was one step closer to easing his own pain.

“The moment you're alone, Rhino,” Peter said to himself, “Will be your last.”

There was no warning. Something hard whistled past his ear before wrapping tight around his waist. He was pulled up, hurtling toward the roof. Slammed down on his back by a black mass, indiscernible in the darkness, Peter's head spun with the speed of it all.

“Who are you?” a voice growled. “What do you want with Rhino?”

Peter struggled in the unbreakable hold of the tendril around his waist. “He a friend of yours? You'll have to wait your turn. I already have dinner plans.” Peter shot a web in the face of the creature holding him. As it swiped at its face, he leaped up, flipping over black shoulders, and landing to brace himself for a fight.

“Who! Who are you?” the creature screamed as it wheeled to face him, tearing the webs away.

“I could ask you the same, big guy,” Peter spat back

“We are not a _guy_ ,” it said. “We are Venom. And you are in our way.”

“I think you mean you're in mine.” Leaping up high, Peter fired a string of webs, rolling, letting the strands wrap around Venom's legs. He pulled it down, but the massive form moved like a fluid and lunged at him. He was trapped again on his back.

“I'm starting to get the feeling you don't like me,” Peter sassed.

“Talk too much, tiny spider!” Venom growled. “What do you want with Rhino?”

Peter struggled to get free. “None of your business. Now let me go and we can work this out.”

“No! We asked you a question. You tell us!”

“I just need to have a little talk with him. With my fists. And probably also my feet. I'm a kicker. You look like a biter.”

“And we will bite your head off if you try to attack us again,” Venom said. It's inky blackness receded into a form that was humanoid and oddly... boobs.

Peter blinked in surprise as he took it in.

“Are you checking us out?”

“What!” Peter shook his head, refocusing. “No! Anyway, what do _you_ want with Rhino?”

“We are going to eat him.”

Peter blinked. “Eat... him?”

“Yes. His head. We are going to eat his head. You won't stop us.”

Peter put his hands up. “Not exactly trying to.”

“Really?”

“I'd prefer to kill him myself, but you can eat him after.”

“No! Want him warm!”

“ _O-okay_ , how about a deal? We both leave Rhino alone for now until we get him away from here. We can't go tearing up this apartment building. Plus he's very definitely not alone and that's a big mess waiting to happen.”

“We don't mind a mess,” Venom rumbled. Its long tongue snaked out and ran over terrifying teeth.

“I'm sure you don't, but I can't let you go on a rampage. Either we can chill out here until Rhino is alone or I can fight you and we'll both miss our chance.”

“Fine,” Venom said, but it wasn't a growl this time. Black goo seemed to melt away, receding into its own center. Then Peter saw, it wasn't folding in on itself, it was drawing into a human body. Blonde hair, glasses, and big green eyes: a woman stood in front of him. “I could use a rest anyway,” she shivered as the goo fully absorbed into her. She sat down on the ledge.

Peter sat beside her, staring in bewilderment. “I... I've never seen anything like it.” Peter blushed, “I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare.”

She chuckled. “It's quite alright. I understand that it's not every day one sees a monster become a lady. Sorry,” she flinched. “They don't like being called that. I'm Elsa,” she offered her hand for Peter to shake.”

“P- Spiderman,” Peter said.

She smiled. “Nice to meet you. It's good to have an ally, if only temporary.”

“It doesn't have to be.”

“No... I have other things to deal with beyond this.”

“Someone else do you dirty?”

She blinked at him and Peter held his hands up innocence. “Sorry.”

“It's okay. And yeah. They really did.”

“Can I ask... what is that thing? Venom?”

She smiled. “Mine,” she laughed. “I made it. Sort of. I had the idea, just not all of the ingredients. A certain someone helped me get the last piece. It's still not stable though. Venom's missing something. I can't be its host forever. Eventually it will kill me and Venom, too. It can't live without a host.” She stared down at her feet.

Peter felt bad for her. She talked like she was losing a friend or a lover even. Venom meant a lot to her.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. After we're finished with Rhino, I know where to go poking to find what we need. I just need a game plan.”

Peter's skin prickled. Rhino was on the move. He had only one friend with him as he loaded into a luxury car and pulled away from the curb. Tony's men didn't follow. Good. He leaped from the roof top.

Flying through the air, swinging from web after web, Peter was astounded to see Venom moving along beside him. It swung on narrow black tendrils not unlike Peter's webs. They kept pace with each other as they followed the silver car through the lamp-lit streets. Then, bingo! Rhino lead them straight to a warehouse in a sketchy part of town.

Unfortunately, Rhino wasn't alone here either. But Venom didn't waste any time taking care of the issue. Before Peter could stop them, Venom was working its way in from the back, tearing the heads off of anyone they saw. When men started running out the front, Peter went in.

Rhino stood in the midst of it all. He roared at his men to hold their ground, but whatever power or intimidation he held over them was not as strong as the fear invoked by Venom. Peter watched as the creature swung around the crowded warehouse, smashing through crates, and ripping through men. It seemed distracted, forgetting its target, as it crawled after screaming men into the back of the warehouse leaving Peter alone with Rhino.

Peter leaped down from his position on the ceiling landing in front of the gray skinned man. Rhino roared at his appearance, then he laughed.

“If it isn't Kingpin's favorite new pet,” he said. “Come to kill me, Spider? Come on. Be good dog.” His broad shoulders shook as he laughed. “This monster is Kingpin's pet, too? Kingpin has too many new toys. He forgets what loyalty is.”

“Murdock started this, Rhino. And you? You shouldn't have taken his money.” Peter threw his weight behind his legs, flinging his body forward, feet first into Rhino's chest.

The large man landed on his back looking stunned as Peter flipped gracefully over him. “You are strong, spider,” he coughed. “But you are stupid. Blind with pain. This will not bring your uncle back.”

Peter hesitated, shocked. He hadn't expected Rhino to know who he was. Distracted, be missed his window to dodge as a massive fist swung at him. Blunt pain that started at his jaw and radiated down his left side burned through him as he was flung across the room, falling and crashing through a wooden crate, cushioned by white power wrapped in plastic.

Any other time Peter would have been concerned by the amount of cocaine he had just landed on, but he had something more important to deal with. Like the fact that there hadn't been a lot to recognize when he went with May to identify his uncle's body. Rhino deserved the same treatment. Talking about his uncle like that, the man was making it personal and Peter had no problem letting it fuel him as he leaped back onto his feet.

“You are not strong enough,” Rhino barked. “Tiny like child.”

Peter launched himself at Rhino's head, using a web at the last second to dodge his right hook and plant his feet against the man's back. As hard as he hit, Peter felt like he was doing very little against Rhino's tough skin. He would have to play dirty, get clever.

He stilled. Rhino charged. He ran. Rhino laughed. Barreling toward him, Rhino couldn't stop as Peter leaped out of the way and left him to plow into a pillar. His hard body cracked the cement outside and rattled against the steel in the center. Groaning, he got back on his feet, face bloody and eyes dark with hatred as he rounded again on Peter. And Peter played him twice. This time Rhino broke through the outer wall of the building and was stopped by a shipping container. It wasn't as hard as the support pillar, but after breaking the man's skin, Peter suspected that it didn't need to be.

After a moment, Rhino climbed back through the wall. He groaned and roared, blood running down his face and shoulders.

“Who's stupid now?” Peter taunted.

Rhino roared again, charging, but as Peter tried to jump out of the way Rhino caught him and threw him to the ground. “That won't work again, little spider.”

Peter coughed. He tasted blood. “You don't get to call me that.”

Gun shots on the other side of the building drew Peter's attention, but it wasn't enough to distract him from the big gray fist headed for his face. He rolled out of the way. His web shooters worked double time to get Rhino's legs out from under him, planting the man on his face. Peter went high and came down on his elbow, driving himself into Rhino's shoulder, satisfied by the pop as it dislocated. He rolled as Rhino rolled and he was prepared to throw his weight into a punch that was accompanied by a sickening crack. Dizzy, the man beneath him flailed, but Peter could already taste his death in the air.

He felt it all in intricate detail, his fists against flesh slick with blood, the give as bone broke and crunched, again and again, until fatigue began to rise up stronger than adrenaline and Peter could feel the ache in his arms, his fists, his back. He stopped and laid down his hands. Aleksei was unrecognizable. A bitter, sinister, relieved, grin spread across Peter's face. The sun would shine a little brighter come morning.

Exhausted, Peter climbed off of the broken corpse. He looked down at the blood on his hands, staining his skin where the fabric of his suit had ripped. The sound of a sigh made him look up.

Tony smiled at him. “Beautiful,” he said.

“Tony? I asked you to stay away.”

“I had to make sure you were safe.” He looked him up and down, quickly closing the space between them. “That's a good look on you, sweetheart,” he said, voice dark and smooth. He wrapped an arm around Peter's waist and pull him in close. He smirked. “You're hard, baby.”

“So are you,” Peter said, breathless. The smell of blood in the air, the adrenaline in his blood, the warm press of Tony's body, he riding high. And then Tony took his hand, looking at the torn fabric of his gloves where his own blood was mixed with Aleksei's on his knuckles. His tongue ran over the bumps and grooves of the bones, cleaning away the red stain on his skin. Peter's breath caught for a moment, then he was pulling off his mask.

“I need you,” he pulled Tony in for a quick, rough kiss. “I need you to fuck me, right here.”

Tony chuckled. “What about your little friend?”

Peter blinked, remembering suddenly. “Venom? Where are they?”

“Don't worry, daddy got them out of your way,” he winked.

“You weren't supposed to be a part of this,” Peter shook his head.

“Shh,” Tony brush sweaty hair back from his forehead. “I will never stand by while you're in danger. I gave you all the space you needed to do what you had to do for yourself. And I made sure that no one got in your way. All of the important parts, that was all you, baby.”

Black tendrils slithered through the cracks around the door, then all at once ripped away the entire door frame. Venom roared as they came through. The hulking form lumbered past to see Rhino already dead on the floor. They roared again, clawed hands lifting up the massive corpse, child sized in Venom's hands. Their wide, toothy, mouth opened and Peter shuddered as they shoved Aleksei into their mouth and crunched down, tearing him in half.

“Well... I'm not hard anymore,” Peter mumbled.

“Let's get to the car,” Tony agreed.

“Nice meeting you, V!” Peter called to goo monster as the pair backed from the room.


	20. Chapter 20

Back to school, back to life. Things settled down into something entirely too normal for Peter's comfort. It didn't seem right that after everything that had happened, that things could just go back to normal. But there it was. In a couple of days, Peter made up for his lost class time thanks to having extra time after school. He went back home and settled in to his new life with May.

Things weren't exactly different from before, when Ben had been in jail. Except that now, the phone never rang, and when one of them caught the other looking at the damned thing they refused to talk about it. And it wasn't the only thing that they weren't talking about. Until they were, very loudly.

“I'm still me, May! There's a lot going on and I'm dealing with it!” Somehow the sight of his aunt looking at him with teary eyed disappointment only left him feeling angry, like he wanted to fight the universe for making them this way.

“It's not you, Peter! This isn't you!” Her voice broke and she covered her mouth with her hand as if to calm her own screaming. “I don't recognize you sometimes, Peter. And you don't go out anymore.” She shook her head. “You can't blame the whole city for what happened to Ben. He wouldn't want that.”

Peter shook his head. “I'm not- what are you talking about?”

“We never told you, but we knew,” she sighed, anger abating, shoulders sagging. “We always knew, about where you go when you disappear at night. We were worried, but we were proud of you.” Her smile was broken with pain. “We were afraid that if you knew that we knew, that you would use that as an excuse to stop coming home at all. If you thought you had to be back by morning, at least we knew you would be back.” She sat down in her chair, looking exhausted.

Peter felt it, too. “I never wanted you to worry,” he said gently.

May blinked up at him with wet lashes. “I was never worried. Not until now. There's something there, in your eyes. I don't know what it is, but I'm scared of it. Do you need to talk to someone? If you need help, I can find you someone to talk to-”

“I don't need a therapist, May!” Peter kicked his chair across the room. It skittered then fell back against the floor. In a moment of clarity, he didn't recognize himself either.

He'd been so angry lately. Aggressive, agitated, a walking ball of stress. He didn't mean to let any of it out on May, but he realized now how often he was snapping at her, pushing her away, even ignoring her. He looked at her and she was afraid of him or afraid for him, he wasn't sure. Peter put his palms against the table, leaning on it.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, May.” Tears burned his eyes. He felt her hand on his back and it made him sob. The love that was there between them was both fleeting and stronger than ever. He wanted to push her away as much as he wanted to keep her close and protect her.

“Please don't shut me out, Pete,” she said. “We're all the family we have. I love you so much.”

Peter turned and let his aunt pull him into a hug. He felt the tears start to fall.

“How long has it been like this?” she asked. “Since Ben?”

Peter sobbed and shudder ran through him. He listened to the beat of May's heart and let it calm him. “Since Gwen.”

“Oh, Peter.” May pet his hair. “That wasn't your fault. You know it wasn't.”

“Except that I killed her.”

“You were inexperienced, you were young, you didn't know what you were doing-”

“That's not an excuse for killing someone.” His fingers dug into the fabric of May's shirt. She hugged his tighter.

“I'm so sorry. I was selfish not telling you that I knew. You've been carrying this alone for far too long.” Her hands found the sides of his face and lifted his head up to look at her. “Listen to me, Peter Benjamin Parker. You are a good man,” she said firmly. Her eyes gleamed with determination. “I forgive you. For anything you might have done. I have no idea the difficult choices you have to make or the mistakes that could cost someone's life, but I do know that at the end of the day, you are a good man with a loving heart and a kind soul. So even if you can't forgive yourself, I forgive you.”

It was unbearable. Peter couldn't bring himself to do anything but cry in her arms. He had so much pain swimming around in his mind and aching in his heart. After Gwen, Harry, Ben, Rhino... he felt like he was shattering. He didn't deserve May's unconditional kindness or love. He was killer. A murderer. But the thing that bothered him the most was how much it didn't bother him to have killed.

He stopped crying only long enough to find himself in Tony's arms.

“If it's not guilt that bothers you, then what?” Tony asked him gently. He brushed aside Peter's hair to look down at his face.

“I just,” his voice broke from the tears and he took a moment to recover. “I just have this anger inside me. It was there... with Gwen. And then Rhino. I can't control it. I'm so scared. I feel like I'm going to lose myself to it.”

Tony held him, calming hands, rubbing his back. “No, baby. You'll be alright. Everything's going to be okay.”

“You're only saying that because you want me to calm down.”

“You need to calm down. You've been crying all day. You'll make yourself sick.”

Peter took a deep breath and let his tired body relax in Tony's arms. “Is that why you love me?”

“Hm?”

“Because I'm a killer, like you?”

“You're not a killer, Peter,” he said, ignoring the accusation. “Maybe you're capable of killing and feeling nothing for it, but I don't believe for a second that you would kill if it weren't for the sake of someone that you love. You're like me in only the best ways.” He chuckled.

Peter smiled at his arrogance, but it didn't last. “What happened, to what was left? After Venom...”

“My men took care of it. Wiped the place down and burned it all for good measure. No one will ever know what happened, but us.” Tony hugged him tightly, pulling him up into his lap. “There's nothing to worry about.”

“Except for this thing inside me.”

“Everyone has a bit of darkness in them. I love that part of as much as the rest.” He brushed aside Peter's hair and kissed his forehead.

“That doesn't make it less scary,” Peter said, practically pouting.

“Peter, look at me.” Peter looked to see Tony's rich dark eyes shining with honest affection. “Do you believe that you could go out and kill someone, just anyone? Some little old lady that expected you to help her cross the street?”

“No, of course not-”

“Or the cashier at the cafe you like?”

“No, Tony-”

“Or some innocent standing down there on the sidewalk?”

Peter sighed. “Tony-”

“No, you wouldn't,” he said with sincerity. “Maybe this thing you're feeling is dark and scary, but it's only dangerous to someone who's a real threat. I know you still carry the guilt over what happened to your friend, but it wasn't Gwen that you killed it was the Lizard. If you had known it was her would you have done it?”

“No-”

“See, there you have it.” He lifted his hands, case solved.

Peter shook his head. “But I don't think that I could have stopped once I started.”

Tony kissed him, stopping only when Peter allowed some of the tension to leave his body. “You're not alone in this, Pete. I know how it feels. When the adrenaline takes over, when you're hitting someone so hard the skin of your knuckles breaks, but it doesn't feel like pain. It's something else.”

Peter looked at him, feeling like he was falling into the darkness of Tony's eyes. He could remember it. The feeling that he was describing. The rush. “The release,” he said.

“Yeah. That's the word.” Tony licked his lips and Peter followed the movement with his eyes. Struck by a sudden desire, he traced his own tongue over Tony's lip, surprised when the man caught him tight in his arms and turned him over onto his back. Hot lips kissed a line up his neck, biting just under his jaw, teeth only letting go when he whined.

“Don't be afraid of who you are, Peter,” Tony said and just like all of the times before when he'd seen the man, skin stained with blood, he found himself getting turned on. By the blood, the pain, the power. There was no more moral dilemma, just power and an aching need for it to be used on him.

“I'm not afraid of me...” he said. Peter slid his arms up until they were over his head. “Please, Mr. Stark, don't hurt me,” he whined, with a playful smile on his lips.

Tony grinned back and there was that darkness in his eyes. “You're mine, little spider. I can do what I want with you.”

Peter whined. “Please.”

Tony slapped him, the sting of it sparking through his face. His hand wrapped around Peter's throat, tightening. He watch Peter beneath him, mouth hanging open.

“My own little toy,” Tony purred. “And you're so unbreakable compared to the rest aren't you?”

Peter shivered. Fuck he was hard and Tony's hand just kept getting tighter until Peter moaned, garbled by the restriction. Tony grinned at him. “I know what I want to do with you,” he said.

That's how Peter ended up on the floor at the end of the bed, very naked. His wrists were tied to the bedposts, spread wide. And Tony held up another length of rope. Peter's eyes followed as Tony knelt down. He coiled the rope around his neck, pushed his head back against the foot board, and tied it. It wasn't tight enough to choke him, though, and Peter was confused until Tony pulled his cock from his pants and he figured it out.

Tony's smile was smug, sadistic, already enjoying what hadn't happened yet. He stepped forward, stopped where his cock was just within Peter's reach. “Suck me off, sweetheart,” he ordered.

Peter took Tony's cock into his mouth, but he couldn't reach much more than the head. He licked and sucked around it, playing coy, like he didn't know what Tony wanted. Tony slapped him again and he moaned around the flesh in his mouth.

“Reach for it, baby. Strangle yourself.”

Peter moaned again. He leaned forward, letting the ropes constrict around his throat, tightening until he couldn't breath, but he had all of it in his mouth. He looked at Tony with watery eyes. He got a smile and gentle fingers through his hair.

“That's it, little spider. Good boy.”

Peter fucked his throat twice over, swallowing down Tony's cock and letting the ropes squeeze his neck. He couldn't breathe and he didn't care. Tony was moaning above him, praising his name. He could taste precum on his tongue when he pulled back. It felt good, the quiet violence of strangling himself to please Tony. Quiet, aside from the sounds he made as he choked and his ragged gasps when he found air again.

He knew when Tony was close from the way his hips jerked and his hand twitched. Wanting to take him, grab him by his hair and fuck his face until he climaxed, but he seemed entranced watching Peter keep going long past the point anyone would else would have given up for the sake of self preservation. But Peter didn't care if he passed out on Tony's cock. He looked up at him as if to convey his thoughts, 'suffocating on your dick is the only way I want to go'. And he didn't stop, didn't pull back, until Tony came, letting his cum splatter his face, making them both moan as he coated Peter in filth as he gasped.

“Look at you,” Tony said. He grabbed a fitful of Peter's hair and turned his messy face up. He panted, licking his lips clean of cum once he'd finally caught his breath. “Does it get you hard when daddy's mean to you?” The toe of his shoe nudged Peter's cock and played with his balls. Then he kicked him, hard in the stomach. Peter grunted, would have doubled over if he wasn't tied up.

“Tony, please,” he moaned, he looked up at him, pleading. He was so hard it hurt. He could feel himself throbbing.

Tony's hand twisted in his hair and he begged some more. “When did you get to be such a pain slut?”

“It's not the pain,” Peter gasped. “It's you. Do whatever you want to me, please.” He knew what a wreck he must have looked like, face wet with cum and spit, cheeks burning red, neck already turning colors from the rope, cock hard and twitching against his stomach.

Tony knelt, hand still caught in Peter's hair twisting his neck in a harsh angle. His other hand hover just shy of his cock, just enough to feel its warmth but not to touch. “Ya know, Pete,” he said. His eyes roamed over him. “No one has ever been as beautiful as you are now.”

A finger brushed over Peter's cock and whimpered. Surging forward with need, Tony caught his mouth in a plundering kiss as his hand wrapped around his cock. Peter came the second he felt that hand, that tongue in his mouth. He heard the bed crack as his body trembled and he arm pulled against the frame.

When he was done, Tony was quick to untie him. He picked him up and moved him to the bed. Peter curled up, smiling when Tony joined him, wrapping him in his arms.

Tony kissed his forehead. “Are you okay, Peter?”

“Uh huh,” Peter nodded. “I'm so tired.”

“Are you sure you're okay? Do you need anything?”

“I'm okay.” He snuggled himself into Tony's chest. “Just hold me until I fall asleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Pillowfort](http://pillowfort.social/BabyBatsCreations)


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